


On With the Show!

by Chooboozle



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Blow Jobs, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Carnival-type, Circus, Future Pregnancies, M/M, Rimming, Self-Lubrication, Size Kink, but they love each other so, drunken!Ryan, firebreather!Michael, freakshow - Freeform, ringleader!Ryan, sassy!Gavin, strongman!Ray, swordswallower!Gavin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2680727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chooboozle/pseuds/Chooboozle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The poor Lads never got to live normal lives. Even Ray is fresh out of Puerto Rico without any lick of knowledge what it's like to live in Texas. They all have talents that none would describe as quite normal or even <em>constructive</em> for that matter. They are <em>freaks</em> and Ryan loves his boys~</p><p>They can't stand their ringleader, but perhaps his...other treatments would suit quite nicely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't ask. Just accept this <3
> 
> This will be BEYOND filthy. I hope you stay tune~
> 
> Got a suggestion? Scene prompt? Want more of your favorite ship? Rarepair? Want more fluff and cuddles? Porn without Plot? [I'd love to know](http://chooboozle.tumblr.com/ask)

It was a cool, chilly night in Austin and the dusk was beginning to settle in for a sleepy one. All was dead and quiet with the exception of the brightly lit tent in the middle of the field. Spotlights flashed brightly, moving and waving in the side-by-side directions to grab all attentions. All _were_  grabbed, too, as the performance of the circus was completely sold out with every bench and seat filled.

 

Inside of the tent was an open area with three rings all separated out. They were the rings that held shame and sadness, at least to the ringleader. Before the show started at exactly 10 PM, he downed yet another small bottle of alcohol - a fifth of scotch. With a curse playing on his lips along with the back of his hand running across his filthy, wet mouth, he threw the bottle across the wall.

 

“Sir, must you really drink so much so before the show?” asked a small voice. The drunken man recognized it and he gave an ugly, twisted smile, looking back at the Lad. His voice was thick and accented to a strong English one and there was no doubt that he would be dressed in the most dazzling attire, and he was. He wore beautiful, angelic wings that latched onto his back and sparkled heavily with pink glitter. The tight, strapping short skirt and the small top that only covered strips of his arms and torso that he wore also sparkled and shimmered a lovely pink in the light. He wore pink gloves that were metallic, shimmering a stripe of light for each movement he made. The boy held three swords ever so delicately in his hands. Fingers danced over the blades, not even paying attention to the handles for the specific purpose of being able to hold the sword. Although not long like a katana blade, they were still _very_  deadly with the ability to slice skin at even the most lightest of pressure.

 

“Shouldn’t you be in my bed, swallowing down my cock instead of those swords?” the drunken ringleader replied, sneering languidly. The British performer scoffed and rolled his eyes before leaving and preparing for the show. The ringleader chuckled, muttering something under his breath along the lines of “get ‘im tonight". He groaned, settling upward and wobbling slightly from the intoxication of the liquor that he constantly swallowed down and brushed himself off. After inspecting himself in the mirror for one or two takes, he decided that he was lucid and presentable enough to host his show.

 

“Get the other two, lazy beast, and we will get this show on the road.”

 

“I’m _not_  a ‘lazy beast’, you sorry sack of--” the British sword swallower was preparing to smack his hand across the host until it was caught and stopped by another paler, softer hand.

 

“He means ‘yes, Master Haywood, sir’,” the other voice said, northern and thick. He gave a strong look at the Brit, making the latter curse slightly. “Isn’t that right, Gavin, dear?” The burning torches that he held were purposely pressing against the Brit’s skin to give a singing warning.

 

“Yes, Micoo,” Gavin pouted, shaking his back to where the wings that were strapped on moved uncomfortably in order to get away from the torch. He recovered, pulling his arm away from the ginger and gritting his teeth when he took another look at the Master. “You don’t deserve us, you piece of nut.”

 

“My pretty boys,” the Master smirked. “You don’t deserve the life that I have given you.” He flipped the tails of his red coat, beginning to walk with light _clicks_  and _clacks_ of his heels. His voice was dragging and slurring, the alcohol beginning to set in with even more amounts of excess continuing to flood his bloodstream. “Now where’s that strapping Spanish boy?”

 

“He’s Puerto Rican,” the sword swallower rolled his eyes.

 

“No matter, he’s the star of our fiasco tonight!” Haywood held up an index finger, pointing upward towards the ceiling as if to emphasize his point. “Tonight he will be lifting an actual one-ton block! Boy, the crowd will go wild with that. I mean, sure, your acts are beautiful as well and _Gavin_ ,” the ringleader held his eyes as such a devious height. “Your sword swallowing act will only make them excited for the main event.”

 

The Brit threw his fists by his sides, gritting his teeth. An angry, lightly shade of red was beginning to dab at his cheeks and another hand was about to come up for a highly strong  _smack_  until the ginger boy once again stopped it.

 

“He’s beautiful, sir; the crowd will love him,” Michael nuzzled his face against Gavin’s, giving the Lad a small kiss to calm. “Ray will be beautiful and I will be, too, right?”

 

“All of you boys,” Haywood chuckled. “All of you boys are beautiful. Now, come,” he waved his hands so that the performers would obey. They did, beginning to close in on their ringleaders arms until they were coldly wrapped around them. Grimaces were on their face until Michael cleared his throat.

 

“Sir, Ray? We have to find Ray; he’s probably still sleeping.”

 

“That _damned_ boy!” Haywood snapped, pushing the two Lads away. “Still _asleep?!_ It’s five minutes until showtime!”

 

He marched to the back, hands in tight fists with nails digging into his palms. His vision was cloudy and dark, but none of that mattered now. _Rage_ suddenly filled his veins.

 

“ _Raymond!_ ” he snapped. There were two feet running after him, scampering down the halls and into the back were the Hispanic boy slept soundly.

 

“Please, Master, don’t hit him. He needs to perform tonight and he’s just tired!” Michael pleaded.

 

Haywood gritted his teeth, stopping a hand that was about to strike in the air. “Raymond,” he stated again. “ _Get up_.”

 

The Hispanic Lad gasped from his sudden awakening, flailing in the sheets that surrounded his body and legs. “S - sorry!” he struggled to say. “I - I no…”

  
“It’s _t_ _ime_ , Raymond.” Haywood spat. “I suggest you put me in a better mood and get dressed.”


	2. Michael.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan sometimes can't wait until the show is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you would like to see! [I'd love to know](http://chooboozle.tumblr.com/ask) <3

 

 

 

The tent was full of smoke and musk; the cloud smelled like menthols mixed with sweaty, heaving horses and sticky paste of old butter and sugar. It was not the most appeasing smell to just anyone but to Michael, this was home and it was a comforting odor. It was the smell that always excited him to perform his very best. He always enjoyed the sparks of alertness that tingled in his toes and fingers.  

 

The straps of the tight, line sleeves pressed against him when he moved, threatening to pluck or rip from the rise of his flexing bicep. His pants were also conforming to the curves of his chiseled calves; flame resistant. Ever since Michael's awful burn a couple years back, Haywood was sure to have the boy would get only the best quality of flame resistant apparel. The ginger didn't mind his burns, however, they were a part of him.

 

All that he felt was the heat and the rushing endorphins that shot through his veins just like a drug. It hit him - hard and he raised his hand, swinging the dead torch through the air until he caught the center flame that was held in the air in a black bowl. He saw the blinding glare bleak his vision and his first instinct was to just  _breathe_.

 

The fireball's heat felt familiar and he smiled, truly feeling free. The shock and awe noises that the crowd emitted were all the more encouraging and he twirled, flipping sideways before then placing the torch under his tongue. All fell silent, then, the audience being completely dumbfounded and on edge with a thin wire to hold it all.

 

There was a brief cut of burning pain, but Michael enjoyed the sensation. If felt  _natural_ , something that was just a part of him. He took the now dead torch from his mouth and opened wide for the audience to see the burning flames that raged in his throat - the dragon ready to release the flame within.

 

And he did, exhaling the fire into a scalding cloud spreading and rocking through the air, flames dissipating into nothing but a sheer memory.

 

And then, applause.

 

"Please, a round of applause for our most  _handsome_  firebreather, Michael 'the Dragon Lad' Jones!" The ringleader held the mic shakily, numb fingers trying their very best to remain his wavy grip on the device. Michael have a graceful bow, shaking his head to where his red hair could flutter like the flames that roared through the air.

 

The applause and whistles continued to steam through the air, bringing a bashful blush to burn his cheeks. He always adored the attention -- always with the praises, and he was never afraid to admit that. He was certain that there was nothing else he could ever love besides the praises that would beat the most beautiful of rhythms against his ears. He always craved more for it, like an addiction that would never, ever be satisfied.

 

That was the first reason why he ever came to  _"The Experience"_  circus; the only thing on his, then, 20 year old mind was to see how famous he could really get. Now that he's grown older, he realized there was a different love that stolen fame's place in his heart.

 

He was immediately greeted with a loving kiss once he got back into the tarp, lacy thin sleeves tickling at his neck. The lips were warm with the slight scratch of stubble that lightly grazed against Michael's face. The ginger softly moaned, appreciating the short praise that was whispered against his hot mouth, loose tongue licking happily.

 

"You were spectacular, love," the Brit cooed. "Like always."

 

"You'll be better," Michael replied, giving Gavin another small kiss, dropping his torch by his side. "The audience will eat up that pretty face of yours." Gavin's wings tickled against the fingertips of the ginger boy, making a purr rise in his throat.

 

"They  _will_ ," agreed a deep voice. It caused Michael's fingers to clench superficially in reaction, rubbing against the Brit's back in narrow, circular massages. Gavin turned to see the ringleader walking towards them, a limp making him shift and waddle with each step. There was yet another bottle of alcohol in his hand, this time a 40 of Jack Daniel's with the lid capped off and misplaced without a single care in the world. "All of my boys will be loved, tonight," Haywood clumsily slurred. There was a heated blush that peppered his cheeks, a gritted smile being forced. " _So_ loved, my little boys."

 

He laid a heavy hand on Gavin's shoulder, making the Brit hiss and turn sharply to get away. His wings folded inward, Michael made sure to adjust them so that they wouldn't be dulled or damaged in any way. "Piss off, you perverted, horny bloke. You have a fucking show to run."

 

Michael snatched at Gavin's shoulder strap, bumping his head against the Brit's  _warningly_. He placed a hidden, quick kiss on the arch of his ear, whispering soft, "don't you fucking dare talk to your Master like that."

 

"Listen to the Dragon, you  _swallower_. You'll be riding my cock like a shameless whore before tonight is all said and done with," Haywood sneered, contoured and proud. Gavin purposely gagged, sticking his tongue out and receiving a curious look from the ringleader. "Keep your tongue in your mouth, boy, unless it's licking that blade or wrapping hotly around my length."

 

Michael held Gavin's hand that came up for another hard  _slap_. The ginger said another comforting phrase before warning the Brit to watch his actions. "I apologize, Master, you know how sassy he can be." He looked at the ringleader with big eyes, almost showing a spark of pleading and begging. "Was my performance how you expected it, Master?"

 

"Excellent, Michael," Haywood replied. "Gavin goes on in only a moment." He held a wicked smile, hands settling lazily into the hems of his pants, thumbs pressed in and scratching at his skin. "Don't suppose during this break, you could," he paused, looking up through lidded eyes. Michael cleared his throat, taking a look at his boy before giving him another kiss. Haywood groaned at the two performers, their hands  _dangerously_  riding themselves on each others hips, sinking low enough to keep the ringleader's sickened and intoxicated mind thinking so perversely. "My boys," he breathed.

 

"Get ready, Gav. Make them go wild," Michael encouraged, receiving another hug from his boy. Glitter shook of and trailed the floor as the Brit's heels made a professional sounding  _tap, tap, tap_  when he walked away.

 

"Pretty boy," Haywood stated, inching his finger towards himself to indicate the firebreather to step forward. He set the bottle of whiskey on a nearby stand. Michael obeyed, lips pursed and dry. "You're so good to your Master, my lovely boy - my  _small_ , teeny boy. Why can't the other two do as you?"

 

"They'll learn," Michael nervously spoke, a heavy shake rattling his tone. He sunk to his knees, feeling and hearing the stretch of the flame resistant material groaning as thighs flexed to a nice, round size when he finally reached the floor. Haywood made an indistinguishable, drunken praise to the Lord whenever Michael's face was aligned with his groin. Michael already knew what to do: look up at his ringleader with big, pleading eyes, slack his lips to where they looked their fullest, and run his nose and mouth all over the white material in Haywood’s pants where his bulge already began to grow and press,  _longingly_  waiting for that hot mouth that his firebreather had.

 

"God only knows how blessed I am to have a boy like you. Willing to get on your knees for me, mouth already wet and opened for me to fill," the ringleader spoke with a calm, loving tone. Nothing like the suggestive and filthy talk that he gave the sword swallower. "Do you love me, cute boy?"

 

"You know I do, Master," the firebreather truthfully spoke. Although he hated the habits of his ringleader with his constant drinking and filthy talks - sometimes even the rough, rich smacks and strikes that he would give his boys in their ripe asses - he loved his Master. Haywood gave him shelter and warmth, food and clothing, fame and money, but most of all, a bed to lie in with his boys knowing that they were protected. All of the kisses they shared were worth everything.

 

Michael quickly unzipped the pants of the ringleader, his hard member almost instantly springing out, bopping Michael in his damp lips. The ginger made a surprised noise, but obediently dabbed at the lush, swollen head of the cock.

 

Haywood hummed contently, curling rough fingers into the auburn hair of the Lad. "I don't see a need for underwear, boy, when knowing that you'd be on your knees for me."

 

Michael nodded, wrapping his lips around the thick head of the impressive cock that he was about to take in. He was never good at swallowing down Haywood’s member. It was much too plump to go down his tight, unused throat. The ringleader never got upset or angry with the boy because of the firebreather's ability to make the Master shoot thick with just kisses and licks, only suckling the first half of the Master's cock with a sleek, hollow mouth.

 

"God _damned_ ," Haywood cursed, feeling his cock being enveloped by Michael's mouth. It slid in limitedly, Michael's hand wrapping around the half that he could not take in. He bobbed, sliding off of the member until the head would pucker his lips and then he would sink back down until the tip would hit the back of his throat. So badly did the ringleader want to thrust in, tear through his boy and force him to take all of him. "Oh, my tiny Michael...such a good little boy, you are," His clouded mind made his urge dampen, just allowing his performer to work on his own, lapping with a wide, flat tongue, and sucking harshly. He already felt the increasing rise of tension in his stomach. "You do so well with what you can, fierce Dragon."

 

Michael hummed thankfully, continuing to bob his head, slow and full of leisure with eyes closed. His hand that was wrapped around the neglected half moved with his rhythm, slick spit beginning to coat all around. Haywood groaned breathlessly, moving ever so meagerly into the boys tight fist. The calloused scars of Michael's previous burns provided Haywood with the most amazing grip and friction, the Master fucking harshly into the ring of the boy.

 

"Suckle my tip like the little babe that you are," he moaned, closing his eyes as he felt hot, slippery tongue drag across his slit, taking in a lush dribble of precum. His fingers tightened in the auburn scalp, making the firebreather squeak friable  and high. Teeth grazed across the thick vein just laid under the muscle, Haywood cursing and bucking into the fingers mouth. Michael took it, whining at the sudden, slight stretch that was made when the swollen tip found its way into his tight throat.

 

"Oh,  _God_ ," the ringleader praised, his hips jutting in erratic  movements, longing for even the tiniest sliver of friction to pleasure his hard member. He felt thick beads of his performer's drool rolling down his cock, soon being swept up by Michael's right hand continuing to jerk at his Master's cock. "So - so good to me,  my fantastic, little cocksucker," Haywood’s tone fell pinched through grit teeth, nails now embedding themselves into the boy's scalp, threatening to draw blood. Michael mewled, opening his eyes and looking up at his Master, purposely moving faster on the impressive cock that strained against his tongue. "My small boy, taking me so good and proper, letting me fuck his mouth and hand like a good  _whore_  --" the ringleader's sentence broke into a moan that would have made any respecting male embarrassed, or at least blush with want. "Oh, _Michael_  -- s - stop it," he begged. "I'm going to cum...oh,  _God_ , I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that."

 

The firebreather cooed happily, smiling weakly with well- used, tight lips as they were still wrapped around Haywood’s cock. He continued to gently run his bottom teeth under the member, licking like a thirsty hound at the thin, clear beads of precum. The taste began to increase in bitterness, Michael then knowing how close his ringleader really was. Massive, muscular thighs were shaking under his fingertips and he dragged a hand to cup as at Haywood’s balls, quietly praising himself when he felt hot right the skin was around the swollen, tight sacs. The Master moaned, cursing his firebreather's name before forcing the perfect, lush lips off of his cock. One of his hands left Michael’s hair, the other one still so  _tightly_ fisted enough that the boy felt pinpricks of tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

 

"Damn you - God damn you, boy -- I - I said 'stop', you disobeying, puny _whore_  of a boy, " Haywood said in a strain through a bit lip, pressing his cock harsh against the Lad's mouth. His hand was wrapped largely around his member, making Michael's stroking hand look like an amature teenager's. He gripped his cock in in a constricted ring, making the firebreather almost drool and water in thirst from wanting to fondle  and taste once again.

 

The slick and shiny tip was nearly purple, beautifully swollen as Michael ran his lips all around it, shivering as he heard the strangled swear of his Master trying not to scream "fuck - oh,  _Michael_!"  Ribbons of warmth suddenly splashed sloppily in jetted spurts against the firebeather’s lips, making the boy lick and hum happily. Haywood’s muscles tensed tightly under his fingers, the Master moving through his orgasm, moaning and praising shamelessly, not even caring for those who were bound to hear. Michael continued to caress, dragging his tongue all over the source of the thick jets of the warm cum that dribbled down his chin. It tasted  _sweet_ just like the butterscotch and rum that his Master would always drink.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” he moaned, fingers finally loosening themselves up from his performer’s hair. He chuckled, completely gone and clouded from the intoxication of both the liquor and the adrenaline that ran thickly through straining veins. “Oh, my  _Michael_ ,” he cooed. The ginger  _squealed_  when he felt the large hands of his ringleader suddenly clamp down on his shoulders, picking him up harshly to where the small of his back was now pressed against the the table like a dull razor that threatened to cut. There was a sickening smile on Haywood’s face, teeth grit to where they strained on the edge of shattering. “Get on the table,  _now_ ,” he deeply growled.

 

“S - sir,” the ginger boy whimpered but slithering his body on top, legs shakily trying to find the grip without slipping so that he may obey. The Master’s hands now were at Michael’s thighs, forcing them apart so fast that the boy made an embarrassing, surprised moan; his fingers were clawing at the wood of the table, reacting to the tingling needles that poked through,  _wanting_  to grab. “Oh, no, no, please, sir,” Michael begged with a pinched voice. “No, Gavin’s waiting on you --”

 

“I don’t  _care_  what that lovely fool wants, dear boy --” Haywood pulled Michael’s body forcing the Lad to encircle his legs around the ringleader’s waist. Michael dithered when he heard the proud, warm purr of his Master when he felt the boy’s hardness poking through the thin material of the flame resistant outfit, rubbing wantingly against the ringleader’s own, now soft, cock. The remaining leakage of arousal rubbed against the Lad’s clothes and the boy groaned at how his outfit was now ruined. “It’s a good thing you already went out there, isn’t it?” Rough hands forcefully jerked down the thin material of the Lad’s pants, growling proudly when he saw that Michael also neglected to put on underwear. “You learn from the best, my  _hound_.”

 

The words made the firebreather gasp in cold air, sending flickers of chills down his body. His cock strained pathetically against his body, now beginning to weep just like his Master’s did earlier. “My cute boy - _immodest_ , tiny firebreather,” Haywood continued to praise and with his brutal and familiar hands forcing Michael’s thighs to spread so  _wide_ , his cheeks gapped apart, revealing his puckered, twitching rim. Michael spat out a harsh “ _fuck_ ”, cooing at the filthy words and actions that the ringleader gave him. There was a nervous beat in his racing heart, especially as he saw the ringleader sinking low to his knees, tongue immediately diving down to wrap around the smooth skin of Michael’s balls. The skin was  _warm_  and glided over the Master’s licking muscle so smoothly, making him release a messy moan.

 

“P - please, oh,  _Jesus_ , please,” babbled the thin  performer, moving his body against the movement and pace of Ryan’s tongue. He felt the pang of pleasure hit his core, leaving his cock now drooling lush, crystal beads of precum. His member was left neglected, unfortunately, the Master messily suckling and mouthing at the tight, smooth balls of the Lad, making sure that no skin was left untouched and dry. The spits of curses from his little boy encouraged him, the drunken, warped state of mind telling the Master to just allow all primitive instinct to take over and lap at his performer like a thick, tall drink. The deep, lovely taste of Michael’s cleft tickled at the ringleaders tongue and making him shamelessly stroke all in between. He purposely spread the fat, plump cheeks apart, groaning deeply when he saw the hole of his boy twitch and pucker as if  _aching_  to be filled.

 

“God only knows that one day, Michael,” the Master growled, interrupting his statement just to give a strong  _lick_  against the hole and earning a soft mew that pleased his ears. “...my boys -  _all_  of my beautiful boys will have their bellies round and full with my fat baby pups.” He heard a shattering gasp from the boy when he dove his tongue in, running his lips all around the muscle so perfectly to make the firebreather squirm above him. Haywood continued to force open Michael’s legs, angling his mouth so that his tongue could run freely, threatening to dip it inside. “All of you would look so pretty by my bedside, kissing and licking at each other, rubbing at each other’s full bellies with warm, curious hands,” the Master was rambling slurs now, continuing to interrupt phrases of his speech just to try and poke his tongue into the Lad, wetly opening the boy up as if he were about to be bred all deep and proper. Fingers glided upward against the cleft of Michael, slickly dragging themselves until they slid over the muscle. Ryan pressed inside only  _slightly_  to get the first knuckle in and hearing Michael squeak seemed more refreshing life giving water.

 

“ _Oh, God_ , don’t tease -- fucking don’t tease,” Michael moaned, gasping for gulps of air when he took a look down at the ringleader. “W - want you. Want your pups, fucking  _give me it_. Fill me up, daddy, I  _want_  it.”

 

“Michael,” Haywood praised, loudly kissing at the boy’s cheeks. The word "daddy" ran hot blood to his soft member, making it visibly twitch. Never had his boy ever called him that. He ran his tongue from the very back Michael, dragging it over the tasty hole of his boy, and all the way until they were running over the smooth, swollen sac. There was yet another messy sound of the ringleader when he spread opened the boy once again to just continue to rub, completely losing himself in eating out the firebreather. Lips were now cupped with tongue finally finding its way inside of the warm, glossy Lad. The ringleader quietly reminded himself of how blessed he was from the absolute warm and basking flavor that his boy bestowed on him. Just as rich as a freshly baked chocolate cake, just as tasty, too.

 

“ _Fuck! _”__ Michael screamed, an eager hand jerking at his hard, seeping member. He pressed himself against his Master’s face instinctually, grinding roughly until he began to move back and forth, loving the skim of the watery tongue rubbing up against his tight walls. “Oh, yes, fuck me with your hot tongue, Master.”

 

"Little Lad," Haywood kissed, dabbing only once at the swollen head of Michael’s cock. "I love how your small, cute dick bobs up and down, just like it would do if I were fucking you. Little firebreather, does it do that when the swallower has his way with you?"

 

Michael huffed, releasing breath as hot as the fire he expels from his throat. He hesitantly nodded, messily continuing to press his body against the ringleader, wanting more. The fingertips that were pressed inside his body moved in deeper, the thick digits beginning to stretch out the Lad. " _Oh_ ," Michael moaned. "Y - yes, he loves it, too...Loves how tight I squeeze around him..."

 

Haywood growled a prideful whirr, sending his fingers completely inside, feeling the boys muscles clamping down harsh and tight. "Oh, yes, my two pretty boys fucking around; I'm only imagining the pathetic, squealing noises you two would make as both of you cum." He wickedly smiled after his slurred statement;  he felt Michael's walls trying to keep his fingers in, pulling against Haywood so that he wouldn't pop them out. "You want a fat cock inside of you? My fat cock, Michael? What about the swallower's? You make me spill over so quick - I  _could_  be inside that little asshole of yours, but sadly not," he curled his fingers against the soft spot of the boy, making Michael arch his back and gasp out a blasphemous curse, moving downward against the digits. "Squeezing around my fingers as if it was my dick...You want me inside so bad."

 

" _Yes!_ " Michael whined, bucking himself upward into his hand, moving it fast and tight in the ring of his fingers. He choked out a strangled breath, feeling the rough hands of the ringleader ripping his fingers from the grip around his aching, drooling cock. It twitched with neglect, making the boy resound a puppy yip, shifting his hips with want. "Master, you're fucking teasing me, I  _beg_  you --"

 

 

"Whiny doll, hush up, now," soothed the drunken Master. He dragged the curl of his tongue straight under the Lad's cock before letting it rub all over, sinking his lips down on the length. With one swift go, Haywood successfully downed the firebreather's length, hollowing out his cheeks just the way that he knew that his boy would enjoy. He was sure to taste all around, swirling his talented, wet muscle all around to please. Michael was making the most beautiful noises, cursing Haywood’s name all the while praising it, eagerly trying to move past the strong hands of the Master they held his shaking hips down on the table.

 

The slit of the firebreather's cock drooled precum, Haywood licking all around to gather the lovely sweet taste of the syrup of his boy. The flavor was strong, to beginning to bitter up from how close Michael was. The boy's hips were  _quaking_ , mewls of begging and encouragement growing list- and louder along with now trembling fingers strongly gripping as the golden locks of the Master.

 

Soon, there was a silent squeak from the Lad sound with the broken, whispered sentence of, "I'm cumming..." Gushing, warm cream soon filled Haywood’s mouth. The ringleader moaned happily, gulping thick and deep, fingers now massaging the purple splotches that painted Michael's hips.

 

The guttural groan of the boy was strangled back when the tight lips of the Master pulled off, massaging at the over sensitive muscle that dripped with arousal. He looked at his boy with dim, lusty eyes that were blown to a dark blue. He watched his boy's have heavy rises and falls with his struggled breath. Toes continued to twitch from the post orgasmic ecstasy that raced through Michael's nerves.

 

"Lovely," the drunken ringleader stated. He rose wobbly to his feet, hands immediately buckling his pants back together after ruching himself back in. Without another word, he left from under the flaps of the tarp, returning to am excited, roaring crowd that was grateful for his return. The clicks of his shoes were even drowned out by the cheers.

 

Michael laid there, completely opened and exposed for anyone to see if they were to walk in. He felt the drops of warmth sliding down his thighs in thick beads, flaccid cock clinging to the inside of his upper thigh and he shuddered from the sweet muscle memory that reminded him of the amazing tongue that so easily got him off. He prayed a limited prayer, thankful for the treatment he received, although there was a sad whimper, Michael clutching to the table as if it were his life preserver. So badly did he want to cry out and beg for his ringleader to come back and  _take_  him as deep and as proper as he should. All the talk of children and breeding made the firebreather ache, hole twitching wetly from the want to be filled.

 

Michael regretted licking his Master off. What a waste of warm, sweet cream that could be filling him to the brim; he imagined the warmth coating his walls, lulling a soft dream of breeding that fat litter of pups that Haywood promised.

 

Weakly, Michael slid off of the table: a boneless and fumbling mess.

 

"Michael," sounded a soft, accented voice. The ginger firebreather looked up to see the strapping Hispanic Lad, Ray, looking at him through an opened door. He walked towards the Lad, Michael shaking his head.

 

“No, no, no, Ray,” he waved off the Lad. “You have to be training.”

 

“Naked,” Ray giggled, pointing at Michael. He was quick to crouch on his knees, open and flat palms immediately pressing against Michael’s pecs. There was a wanting coo from the Hispanic Lad before he continued his fragmented sentences. “Fuck. You  _y señor_,” he smiled.

 

Michael had to stop himself from giggling, honestly feeling proud of Ray’s improving English. “Yes, Ray,” Michael smiled. “Fuck.” He felt the strong beating of his heart beginning to quicken when he saw the darkness in Ray’s eyes, the smile seeming to twist into something  _way_  more devious.

 

“You,” Ray continued, giggling before pressing his lips in a surprising snatch against Michael’s. The firebreather made a strained noise, allowing the strongman Lad to kiss him. There were familiar scratches of stubble that scraped along Michael’s lips when Ray hungrily kissed at him, moving and exploring his tongue all around the boy’s warm mouth. When they parted, Ray made a little  _humming_  noise that made Michael’s cock twitch from how muddled it was. “Fuck  _you_. Wanna,” the Lad tried to say, accent thick and full.

 

Michael shuddered, instantly shaking his head “no” but gasped when he felt Ray’s palms applying pressure to his chest, carefully pushing him back until Michael felt the familiar bunch of hay under him, acting as a cushion from the hard, cold ground. Before he could react, Ray was kissing him again, knees and thighs so shamelessly spread opened to reveal his hardness that pressed against his tight body suit.

 

“Jesus, Ray,” Michael hissed, trying to sit up and push the strongman Lad off of him, but it was to no avail. The Hispanic grunted in reply, setting Michael on his back again.

 

“Pups,” Ray stated, smiling bright. “Want…”

 

“ _Ray_ ,” Michael whined. “You have to train...You never lifted anything like this before. We don’t want you to be hurt…”

 

Ray looked at Michael with a puzzled face, an eyebrow raising in curiosity before he giggled. “Will not hurt,” he coaxed. “Feels good, remember?” His fingers dug into the ginger’s thighs, yet another kiss being stolen between them. “Michael,” he purred. “Sticky cream - feels so good.” He began to play with the opening of Michael’s pants, giving touches of warm fingertips against the sensitive muscle. Michael made a rejected noise, pulling up his pants and closing them promptly.

 

“A - after the show, Ray,” Michael promised, smiling with red, used lips. “Then I’ll cover you in my warm cream…”

 

Ray made a happy noise, rubbing his hardness against Michael’s leg before leaning down to kiss him once again. Arms were then wrapped tight around the ginger’s neck. “Cover me while I fuck you?” He felt the muscles against Michael’s neck tighten, the boy straining at the words. The Hispanic chuckled knowingly, wetting at Michael’s cheek. “Like I did with you?”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Michael gasped. “P - please, Ray, go train. I’ll watch you lift weights…” Michael bit his lip when he ran his fingers over the curves of Ray’s bulking biceps, shuddering at how tight they were. Michael only thought dirty, imagining putting those muscles to good use and giving Ray and true workout. He pushed it aside, however, cursing when he felt some more slick squeeze from his cock in interest of the thoughts. He was glad that Ray didn’t see it, though, the Lad getting up and soon helping Michael rise shakily to his feet.

 

There was the faded gasps of shock and dumbfounded patrons and Michael knew that Gavin had just executed one of his acts of his sword swallowing. Michael gripped at Ray's hand tightly when they began to walk back into the room of which he slept and kept the impossibly heavy weights.

 

"I always worry that Gav'll one day skewer himself," Michael nervously spoke, leaning into Ray's arm. The Hispanic only replied of a light hum and smile, stealing a cheek against Michael's ear.

  
"Gavin is alright," he whispered, Michael barely comprehending the actual words of the strongman Lad. "Master makes sure."

 


	3. Ray - Part One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray loves all of his boys. He's eager to show them how much, too~
> 
> Gavin finally confesses to Ryan what his problem is and it's so great that Ryan understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a suggestion? Scene prompt? Want more of your favorite ship? Rarepair? Want more fluff and cuddles? Porn without Plot? [I'd love to know](http://chooboozle.tumblr.com/ask).

Gavin tried to keep his composure and refrain himself from trying to strike at Haywood whenever the ringleader’s hand fell so heavily on his hip. Instead he just grit his teeth hissed a low, “get your hand off of me,  _inebriated cow_.”

 

“And witness -- !” Haywood yelled into the mic, digging his palm into the bone of Gavin’s hip, grinding it deep until it was sure to be purple by dawn. “ -- the  _spectacular_  sword swallower allow not one, not two, but _three_  daggers to go down his tiny throat.” There was a stifled and scattered laughter from the audience at the statement, but overall interest and amazement as the Brit licked along the body of the first blade. They were not as long or as nimble as his usual blade, but together, they were thick as a the width of a pencil when all three were pressed. Gavin gave the ringleader a glare before slipping his tongue  _just_  slightly and felt the sting of a small spice against his tongue. It was a reaction - just a reaction to the chilled hands that weighed down on his hips, skirt drooping downward a sliver.

 

"My  _adorable_  swallower. You're gorgeous," whispered the Master so close to Gavin's ear that the breath winded itself across the swallower's skin, hairs beginning to stand on ends. His hands continued to fall, carrying the thin skirt with them. A deep, jealous purr rose from his chest before he dared to swipe his lips ever so lightly across his Brit's jaw. “Gonna  _ride_ me ‘til the sun’s up, boy? I’m sure you could please yourself so easily.”

 

“ _Get off_  and I’ll think about it,” spat the swallower, worming himself out of the ringleader’s grasp. Blood seeped formed in between the crevasse of his lips from the slight cuts of his blade and he licked at it.

 

He felt his skirt droop  _low_ , nearly riding on the very curve of his ass and he blushed in fear that the audience would see. He didn’t even try to hike it back up and instead, he just continued to lick the daggers with watery stripes of red tracing against the blade. He shot a harsh stare at the Master as he did so, too and Haywood chuckled, completely unphased before he picked up the mic again.

 

“And now, lovely spectators...Gavin Free! The sword swallowing king!”

 

~

 

Michael purposely counted aloud so that Ray may hear the English form of the numbers. Sometimes Michael would stop counting altogether so that the Puerto Rican may catch on and continue to count. So far, he’s gotten to 30 before having to resort back to his natural speech and Michael would smile, congratulating him on how fast he is learning.

 

Ray was in no way uneducated. He was a young Lad, but he managed to make it out of high school before finally deciding to move to America. He did it on his own, however, in spite of his abusive parents just to find out that America is in no way easy to live in. There were so many more people that populated and surrounded him compared to the old, sleepy neighborhood of his previous home. The struggles of trying to speak and understand English were pressing and at times, Ray wouldn’t even try to speak to anyone in English. Sometimes, as of late, Ray would only try to say main words that would associate with what he was trying to speak such as “food”, “hungry”, “sleepy”, and “fuck”. Michael taught him those words in hopes that Ray would try to comprehend them, even if they weren’t full sentences with structured clauses and predicates of the certain subject. They were enough for him and they were enough for the circus. Nothing more.

 

“Ninety nine and…” Michael began.

 

“One,” Ray answered, heaving the bar above him to where it was perfectly perpendicular to his chest. He groaned at the pain that wrapped around his entire torso and arms until he finally just dropped the bar back on its holster and gasped massively with a heaving chest. “S - stop, no,  _no mas, por favor_...” he whimpered. Michael smiled and rubbed at Ray’s hair which was damped into large locks from the sweat that ran from his forehead. He was  _hot_ , steam actually rising from his head from the chilled tent that was Ray’s room.

 

“Close enough,” Michael smiled, beginning to rub the joint of his palm and wrist against Ray’s bulking deltoids that pulsed under his skin. “ Very good, Ray. You’re doing so well; I’m sure you’ll be ready tonight. Everyone will love you, I just  _know_  it.”

 

“Soon,” Ray griped. Michael nodded, still continue to rub the circular, soothing motions across Ray’s neck and arms.

 

“Soon. Gavin’s still on and he’ll be with the lions after his sword act. Won’t be that much longer from now.”

 

Ray’s breath lightened, almost instantly recovering from the lifting. “Love Michael,” he smiled. “I love you, Michael.”

 

“Aw, Ray, your English is getting so well,” the firebreather praised, humming light and helping Ray sit up. They met in a kiss, Michael’s fingers continuing to drum along the tight, strapped skin of the Puerto Rican. Michael was so proud of the first actual sentence that Ray has spoken, or tried to speak, in such a long time. He pulled from the strongman Lad and rubbed at his nose with his own. “I love you, too, sweet Ray.”

 

“Sweet,” Ray tried to speak with an accent as thick and heavy as a storm. He leaned in for another kiss before saying, “ _Y señor?_”

 

“Master is sweet, too. Just drunk off of his ass,” Michael shrugged, plopping down on the stack of hay that had laid in a pile, followed by Ray who also sat in the stack. Originally, Ray’s room was the pen for the show horses before the Hispanic Lad came along. After with some help with the other Lads, they got rid of the stench of horse hair and dusty dirt; Ray has enjoyed his place here. He absolutely loved the Lads and kissed them everyday trying his best to send encouraging comments and hugs. He would always watch with a careful eye whenever the Master would be around, kissing at his boys and talking to them to where Gavin would get irritated and try to hit the Master. It made Ray upset.

 

Ray currently was not fond of his ringleader. He would always drink and be wobbly, touching Ray's boys so inappropriately and say such low things that made both the ginger and the Brit blush. Ray found nothing loving of it at all. Sometimes, Haywood would sneak into Ray's room during the middle of the night and touch at Ray's arms and the curves of his muscles, whispering something deep that the Hispanic Lad couldn't understand. Then he would kiss his head, squeezing a large hand around Ray's thigh -  _so_  close to his sensitive area that only belonged to Michael and Gavin, in his opinion.

 

He would often times get jealous. Seeing Michael on his knees for the Master with stretched, sopping wet lips around the ringleader's length, just like before, would make Ray want to pull his Michael off of him and beg for the Master to stop. He knew Michael enjoyed it, though, and that is possibly the reason why Ray would see a screen of green in his vision. And  _Gavin_ ; he would always love it when the sword swallower would reject Haywood’s kisses and touches (his strong, lovely boy), but whenever Gavin would eventually settle in for the night and let his Master touch him is when Ray would always wonder how they could  _stand_  their drunken, clueless man of a Master.

 

Despite the less appeal of his ringleader, he was happy; and with Michael's lips against his with thin arms around his waist in a tight hug,  he was even happier. All of the performers would kiss often, Ray made sure of it. Whenever they would part, the Hispanic would just lean in a cuddle his head against their chests, listening to their hearts beat excitedly after a good show. The adrenaline that would pump through them would sound so sweet against the harsh, rhythmic  _thuds_  against their chests.

 

“Wanna…” Ray began when they parted, diving his forehead against the ginger’s and smiling. Ever since Michael showed him what it was like to actually touch, feel, and even grow so intimate as to have sex, Ray always wanted it. He didn’t like it just because of how good it felt, but he _adored_  how close they were: Gavin always licking at his ear, whispering something with his soothing English accent, hands wrapped around so cozy and cherished against his hips, jutting his own to make the Hispanic croon in such pleasure every single time they connected. Michael would always be so heated and snug around him, whimpering the softest mews and pleas for the Hispanic to go faster. Ray would always make sure to kiss them and tell them as best as he could how much he loved them.

 

“Ray,” Michael began, smirking wearily. “Come on now, Ray. Later.”

 

Ray hated the word “later” whenever Michael would say it. He wanted it  _now_ , not later. He wanted to the warmth and cushy pleasure that they would share together as lovers  _now_. Instead of speaking or trying to give a one-worded reply for Michael to understand, the strongman Lad leaned in for another kiss, pushing majority of his strength and weight against Michael. The ginger was so light and airy, that he pushed too hard and with a sudden topple, they landed on the ground together from high pile of hay. Michael rolled, landing with a heavy sounding fall. Ray was on top, knees hitting against the floor harshly, knocking bony kneecaps into the hard, cemented ground.

 

“Ow, fucker!” Michael yipped, shoving a flat palm against the cheek of the Hispanic. “That hurt, shithead.”

 

“Michael,” Ray grumbled, apologetically, arms squeezing tight against Michael’s waist. He saw the little red mark against the ginger’s elbows as he moved under him. “ _Lo siento_ , Michael…” He planted small, lined kisses on each corner of the firebreather’s mouth and sighed, beginning to get off of him. Michael wouldn’t let him, though. Instead, the ginger pulled him back down until both of their chests were pressed together. Ray cooed softly, smiling when he realized that Michael was becoming playful, running his curled fingers against the strongman’s sides to tickle him.

 

“You’re such a tart, Ray,” the ginger whirred, pulled at Ray’s hair so that they both may kiss. Ray settled into it immediately, shifting his body so that he may comfortably straddle himself over Michael’s legs. Michael moaned so temperately that he sounded like a newborn  whining for his mother and when they finally split, he hummed low and darted a suggestive glare at the Hispanic. “You want me, huh?”

 

Ray nodded frantically, grinning big before curling his arms around Michael’s neck, leaning over to push their noses together. “Y - yes,” he spoke, lip trembling with the twinge of the kiss and wanting  _more_. He could feel the excitement of blood pumping to his groin and arousing so much so to where there was already wetness beginning to peak. “Love you, Michael - so much…”

 

“I love you, too, my strong boy,” Michael replied before sighing playfully and parting his legs slightly for the invitation. Ray took it almost instantly, moaning when he moved in between and felt the rut and rub of their two hardnesses together. Breath was heavily exhaled and another kiss was shared before the Hispanic trailed his fingers down to the ginger’s pants and beginning to pull at them. His firebreather’s skin was so hot and electrifying to the touch; he was urgent. “My big, strong boy,” Michael repeated the praise, helping Ray pull off his shimmery pants and wet underwear, still damp from the licks from his Master that he leaked.

 

“ _Michael_ ,” was the only word that Ray knew how to focus on - especially in English. He saw the cute length of the ginger spring up so excitedly, sticky with previous spit and dripping wet with thick, clear cum. When Ray wrapped his hand around it,  _he_  moaned, loose lips lazily rubbing themselves against Michael’s ear. “My Michael…”

 

“M - my Ray,” Michael crooned, jutting erratically into the Hispanic’s hand which tightened  _so_  perfectly enough to make the ginger squeal. Ray absolutely  _loved_  those noises that the sweet firebreather would make and he mentally praised himself for it, pumping his hand in time with Michael’s thrusts. He adored making his boys feel so good and want more - just as he wanted. He felt the curling, curious fingers of the ginger trying to grab and feel at him, palming all against his bulge that poked through the tight onesuit that he wore. “ _Oh_ , fuck, Ray. C - come on, lemme get that cock…”

 

The Hispanic nodded eagerly, giving out a broken breath before beginning to work himself out of his entire suit. It was always so annoying to have to take off the entire suit, pulling it down over his knees and kicking them off with an annoyed drone, but it was worth it to see Michael’s eyes light up, hands finding their places against the curves of the muscles in his arms, gripping tenderly.

 

“You’re so hot, Ray,” the ginger admired. “So fucking hot.” He leaned in to plant little, tiny kisses all across Ray’s cheeks and nose, giving off needy moans as he did so. “Your perfect body - such power behind it…”

 

Ray gave a shush before tossing his suit to the side, settling in between Michael’s legs once again. They both jittered amaturely when the glossy heads of their lengths rubbed together and Ray nearly fell into the body, bodies hugging tight and kisses being eagerly -  _hungrily_  shared. Michael’s hand was wrapped tightly around Ray’s cock, stroking it in a way that caused the Hispanic’s toes to curl and twitch. Ray fell into the movements, thrusted into the ginger’s hand as if it were his cushy, tight hole. He whimpered pathetically, eyes closed and lips bit, trying so badly as to not scream out Michael’s name.

 

“Feels so good, huh, boy?” Michael growled, fingers being popped into his lips and tongue licking all around, visibly enough to make Ray dither and jut his hips unevenly. The Hispanic  _wanted_  those lips around his cock, but he didn’t say a word. He began to discover that his ginger did this for tease and play and it  _works_. Michael wanted his mouth to be stretched and sucking on Ray’s cock just as much as the Hispanic wanted it, as well. It was worth all of the effort and tease, though, when Michael heard the pitiful curse that Ray spat, throwing his head back and continuing to fuck Michael’s hand, trying his best to portray how he would  _really_  treat the ginger if he would just  _let_  him already. The firebreather took his fingers out of his mouth. “My big, strong boy,” Michael praised with a voice so sultry and light that Ray gave off a small growl of his own, pulling out of Michael’s hand.

 

“Let me,” the younger whispered. “Want to fuck you so bad. Want to make you feel so good…”

 

“You want my wet, tight ass?” Michael sang, sinking his fingers in between his cheeks, swirling them around his rim until he pressed it, gasping suddenly. “I’m still so wet, Ray. So sleek and wet for you to just  _slide_ right in and have at me with no problems,” the words - the  _main_  words of the sentence were all that Ray need to focus on in order to nod frantically, hand gripping his weeping cock, trying to aim for Michael’s cheeks before the firebreather teasingly clicked his tongue and pulled away. “Ah, bup, bup, Ray…”

 

“ _No_ ,” Ray whined, moaning deep of the rejection. He felt Michael gripping at his neck, pulling him down until they were met in a kiss once more, Michael’s naked legs wrapping around the waist of the Hispanic. Michael continued to pump the fingers in and out of himself, humming thoughtfully before taking his other hand and spreading out his cheek. Ray looked to see the puckered,  _dribbling_  hole of the boy twitching and he mewled, cock straining in his hand. “P - please,  _te ves tan --_  Oh, Michael… Wet, wet for _me_ ,” he stammered, watching with famished eyes, never leaving the view of Michael’s hole  _squeezing_  so right around those soaked finger, working in and out and even curling upward so that the ginger could make himself wail whenever he hit that perfect spot.

 

“Let me work myself out, boy,” the ginger cooed, licking his own lips and wetting them with a light layer of slick.

 

“Tease,” Ray pouted, but playfully. “So mean to me.”

 

“Love you,” Michael laughed, sentence slipping with a moan when his fingers were finally pulled out. Ray bit his lip when he saw them - covered in such wetness and drip that made him when to lick. He’s always wanted to lick at his boy, but the ginger wouldn’t let him. He would say things like “not for you”, “not right now”, “Master would get upset” and Ray hated it. He didn’t think about it highly though when he felt the curves of Michael’s cheeks pressing against his cock, the Hispanic snapping back into reality with a wanting titter.

 

“I love you,” he replied, smiling. Hands gripped at Michael’s sides and he purposely rutted up against the wet inside of Michael’s cleft, humming happily to feel the slipperyness sliding on his cock. “Teasing bitch,” he laughed.

 

~

 

The Brit gagged only slightly when he felt the flat blades finally wedging themselves out of his throat. There was a constant, looking glare from his Master whose eyes were completely fixated on the stretched through of the swallower. He held a perverse smile, but an admiring one at that. It didn’t matter to the Brit, though. The claps and cheers from the crowd made him bow and smile at his accomplishment. It was  _death-defying_ , no matter how lightly his ringleader took it. He felt the hot blood surging through his throat, like it always did after he did this. He couldn't help but feel the slight taste of juice and he licked at his lips, trying his best to not look at the Master while doing so.

 

~

 

Gavin was always afraid of lions. He was even more terrified of them when a drunken ringleader would try and whip to tame them, as well. Having to lean up against a lion, pose for some lovely camera shots, and even placing his head under the jaws of the massive animal made Gavin shake in his heels. He tried not to show his fear by simply smiling, a light blush to cover up the actual color that left his face from the horror he would get when he felt those fangs ever so lightly rubbing against his ears and cheeks. Ryan would be beside the lion, giving it some “encouraging” words so that it may not snap. Gavin tried to stay focused on his act, taking his swords and showing them to the lion. The animal bowed obediently, something Gavin was _always_ thankful for. There was a time when the lion gave Gavin such an _awful_  glare, almost as if warning Gavin to put the weapon down less he were to pounce and snap. He’s always been fearful of them and having the touching pokes, gropes, and fondlings that Haywood gave him proved  _nothing_  better for him.

 

“Please,” Gavin bit his lip. “I’m already afraid of these things and you’re making it worse by --”

 

“Don’t be afraid, darling,” the Master cooed, setting up the ring on its stand. It gleamed in the light before the master held a single match to it and it burst into dancing flames. “You aren’t afraid of those deadly swords, you shouldn’t be afraid of Shakespeare.” He picked up the mic as the lights dim low and the audience fell silent with little gasps and whispers of what will happen next.

 

Gavin bit his lip, nodding when he ran his hands through the ears of the lion in gentle rubs, trying to calm the beast. Shakespeare was its name - disgusting name. Gavin never liked the mongrel and everytime he had to touch the lion to get it to obey commands and orders, his fingers would be shaking violently.

 

Then suddenly, Gavin felt fingers fall in between his, his body hugging his before he began to guide his hands through the lion’s mane. Gavin felt a loving purr arise from Shakespeare and he gulped.

 

“It’s alright, dear,” Haywood slurred, a loose chuckle coming up from his throat. “He’s gentle unlike most.”

 

“It’s a fucking  _creature_ ,” Gavin groaned, trying to pull away from his Master’s clutch. It wouldn’t happen, though; Haywood’s fingers clamped against his and then there was a blowing kiss against his ear, making his legs shudder within his heels. “G - get off me, the audience --”

 

“Let them see our love,” whispered the Master, his nose rubbing up against the back of Gavin’s scalp, hands falling on the round mounds of Gavin’s ass. “Let them see the love that I have for all of my boys.” Ryan heard his swordswallower give a shattered cry and he laughed, finally loosening his grip of Gavin’s fingers and letting him go. Gavin made a small noise, bending down to pick up his swords from the ground. He felt the wind of a draft winding up against his skirt, so slightly to show the pale, flawless skin of his thighs and cheeks. He blushed in embarrassment, hoping none of the audience saw. “Little love,” said the deep voice before Gavin felt a light  _smack_  on his rear, making him yelp. “Go on…”

 

The performer reacted quickly, picking up his swords and aiming them at the lion. This is the part he hated most. He had to signal the lion to charge at him and jump through the hoop.

 

The lion perked up and so did the audience with heavy breaths and intake of air. It seemed as if the whole arena fell silent, awaiting to see what would happen next.

 

“And behold! --” Haywood yelled into the mic. “The lovely Gavin and Shakespeare. Take note, all of you take now, that if he were to not react in time, the animal will attack.”

 

There was noises of terror, the spectators quaking at the horror and realization of what the ringleader just said. Gavin felt the same terror, himself, especially when he saw the small, slanted pupils surrounded by a vast, deep pool of green. They were  _wicked_  and full of the hunt; Gavin already knew what the lion was capable of. All he had to do was just signal at the right time - that’s all. The lion’s attack would be turned off just like a nightlight only if he were to do it  _right_.

 

~

 

“ _God_ ,” the ginger pleaded. Fingers were raw against his spread skin of his ass to allow the slick and smooth access for the Hispanic. There were desperate and breathless moans and praises between them. Ray dug his nails into the lush skin of the ginger’s thighs, leaving only light red marks - nothing like a blotchy purple that their Master leaves them. Ray hated those marks; so rough and forceful. The strongman would always be gentle with his movements, thrusting so deep to stretch the ginger out as much as could afford all while making the fireworker seep with wet, choked moans.

 

“ _Oh,_  my Michael,” Ray whimpered in a slight sob, his head dug into the dip of Michael’s neck, soft licks and kisses being placed all around. He felt the fire of pleasure from Michael, a spark with every deep thrust into his smooth, snug hole. The whines and whimpers that fell from the firebreather’s red, lush lips only encouraged Ray to continued, occasionally hardening his pace just to hear the ginger spit a curse and kick his jerking legs.

 

“God, fill me up, my boy,” Michael moaned. “Fuck me…”

 

Ray hugged at Michael’s body, kissing the firebreather deeply, settling his palms all on the insides of Michael’s thighs.He was so  _warm_  and layered with gloss all around. Ray fell in almost a constant fuss when he pounded into the ginger. Michael had nails of pins and needles, digging deep into Ray’s skin and making the strongman  _squawk_  with the tingling pain in the mixture of euphoric luxury.

 

The dialogue between them was so little except for praising one-worded mewls, occasional encouragements, and whimpering curses. Kisses were heavy between them with wanting, sopping tongue and nips of each other. The noises were  _needy_ , Michael groaning and moving himself back everytime Ray pushed into him. He clenched around the Hispanic to hear the foreign slurs and curses. Until he heard a low,  _long_  moan arise from the younger, strong Lad.

 

“F - fuck… ‘m close,” the boy groaned, nipping at Michael’s lips once again. The ginger gritted his teeth in a greedy smile, purposely clamping down on Ray. The younger nearly screamed, head being thrown back and eyes screwed shut at the tightness that the ginger pressed on him. Warmth rushed through him, hips weakly jutting into the ginger. Michael moaned weakly, chuckling soft when he felt the pulsing liquid flow through him, filling him up until he drooled with it; warm cream brimming up just to fall out in large flows and drops.

 

“Feel better?” Michael asked. There was a rasp of the Hispanic Lad with loose, wet lips clinging onto Michael’s, lazy tongues dabbing at each other.

 

“Love Michael,” Ray gasped, nuzzling his head close against Michael’s cheek. “Love you so much,” he smiled.

 

“My boy,” Michael whimpered, beginning to try and help himself up. “You need to get dressed and I need to get cleaned…” The Hispanic nodded, rubbing slightly at Michael’s half-hardened cock. Michael smiled and brushed Ray’s hand away before giving him a kiss on his forehead. “I’m fine Ray. Master took care of me earlier.”

 

~

 

With a striking gasp, the lion burst through the ring of fire, claws extended so menacingly and eyes aflame with rage. Gavin pictured it all in very detailed slow motion; the animal flying through the flames and heading straight for him with fangs as thick as thumbs and as edged as the swords that Gavin held. In that lapse of time, however, the swordswallower held up his weapons, aiming them flat in front of his face - the cue to stop the lion.

 

His heart was racing and everyone was on the edge of a thin, tense wire. With a tremor - just in a small flash, the lion stopped, bowing down faithfully and holding its head low. Gavin felt the jolt of lightning that ran through his spine, the  _fear_  that shook him to his very core now dissipating into nothing but exhaled breath. He made it.

 

“Incredible!” the ringleader shouted in the mic. The audience applauded with whoops and cheers. Gavin was shaking, but he smiled posing with his weapons and winking towards the crowd. Shakespeare was rumbling loudly, being rubbed and petted by the ringleader who ran his fingers in thick grips through the mane.

 

The crowd clapped with scattered whistles and praise. The lights dimmed and shut; indicating the break for the next part of the show. Gavin breathed in relief to see most of the people dispersing out to refresh their beverages and snacks as well as the lions being put up in their pens by helpers and workers. This was the time for Gavin to calm down, run his fingers through his hair and sigh lowly from the comfort of it finally being over with the animals until he felt large fingers bracing against his thighs and waist, making the swallower wail.

 

~

 

“ _No_ ,” Gavin gasped, the large, gloves hand now pinning him against a wall by his chest, the other offending hand groping so  _longingly_  at the Brit’s package and undercarriage. Gavin weeped conflicted moans - ones of halting - while there were quite a few allowing ones in the mix. The Master’s palm pressed firmly against the bulge of the swordswallower, hungry lips attacking at the latter’s.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” the ringleader disagreed heatedly, tongue licking at the stubbled cheek and nose cuddling up against the rough skin of the Brit. “My little love. My  _gorgeous_  swallower. Please, let me have you for tonight,  _please_. You leave me so hard and aching yet you refuse me my right to take you.”

 

“Your ‘right’?!” Gavin wailed tight fingers clenching onto the suit of the ringleader. “You cheeky shit.”

 

Haywood only moaned, eyes blown with want and lust and  _damning_  such a refuting word such as “no”. He pulled the Brit in for another kiss, hands curiously and  _dangerously_  gripping and rubbing at Gavin’s undercarriage, feeling the slight dampness against the front of the underwear. The Brit squeaked, pulling away from the Master and cursing him.

 

“You’re all wet for me, love,” the Master concluded with a blotched whine. His fingers still clenched, wanting so badly as to feel that heated drool of wetness that would coat them, but Gavin refused, closing his legs when he reached again. “Dripping wet yet you  _refuse_  to let me have you and relieve you of this.”

 

“You aren’t the one to do this to me!” Gavin lied with a deep blush, angry fists clenched as well as teeth bared in offense.

 

“Don’t bullshit me,” Haywood  _growled_  lips once again finding their way against Gavin’s. There were clacks of rough teeth and gnawing fangs between the two of them, nails digging and grinding into the protected skin of the Master’s back. They ripped apart with heavy breaths, Gavin’s mouth watering despite how much he tried to wipe it away. “I know how much you want to remain tough in front of your -- rather  _my_  little boys. You put on this act of how much you don’t like me or how I treat you but _God_ , feel how soaked you are. We barely’ve been in the same area for an hour now, yet I can feel how wet you are for me; I can feel those leg muscles twitching beneath my fingers,” the Master left his sentence with a grating hum, massaging those same tips and pads of his fingers into the very legs and cheeks of the swallower. “They’re  _made_  to bounce - bounce your tiny body and plush ass on my cock and they’re  _beckoning_  for you to just have me. Ride me like the grateful and needy slut you really are for your Master. Let me relieve you of  _this_ ,” Haywood slurred with a thick, loose tongue. His hand groped at Gavin once again and the Brit spat a moan that was shrill enough to be heard by anyone with clear ears. The Brit turned his head, trying his best to pull away from the touching man. “Why is it that when we aren’t in bed, drinking and milking eat other of our warm, white paste that you’re so bitter towards me? At night, you’re howling and praising my name as if I were God above.”

 

“F -  _fuck_  you,” the swallower spoke with such a lying tone, face red with  _want_  of those dirty words that fell from his ringleader’s lips. “The only way you’ll have me now is if your face is buried in between my cheeks and eating me as if you were starving. Finally shut that drunken, filthy mouth of yours because it’ll be too busy, then.”

 

“Jesus,  _please_ ,” Haywood gasped loosely, voice deep and skewed from the alcohol. “Don’t say stuff like that unless you mean it, my dear…” He rubbed his nose against the Brit’s, earning a displeased murmur from the smaller man who wore clicking heels with a strutting ass. “I’d have you on this floor and spilling all over me if you’d let me...Why must you deny me, you  _pestering_ , beautiful boy?”

 

“Because you aren’t the icon my boys need in order to grow up healthily; especially Ray. You’re always drunk and touching us as if we were your fucking toys!” Gavin hissed, eyes darted directly at the Master’s, razor wires surrounding the spaces of his gaze. “I don’t care how thick your cock is or how...attractive you are. You aren’t good for him.”

 

“My Ray,” the ringleader sputtered sadly. “He doesn’t like me, and you’ve taught him that.”

 

“He only learns what he sees. He can’t speak English, do you even remember that?”

 

“He’ll earn all of my love tonight,” Haywood kissed at the rough, furred chin of the swallower. “He’ll know truly, then… I’ll try to stop drinking, but you all just feel so  _good_ , my small babies,” he breathed. “I want the world to know how much I truly love my tiny, fertile, lush boys.”

 

Gavin finally loosened, dragging plump lips across the Master’s nose before kissing the man. Haywood shuddered gratefully into the kiss, leaning in until Gavin was still pressed so stiff against the wall that he was pinned on. They parted, this time so light and soft that even Gavin lost balance from just how gentle it really was.

 

“I’m sure he’ll grow a liking to you once you do that,” the swallower cleared his throat, nuzzling his nose hesitantly against the ringleader’s cheek. “M - master,” he finished.

 

“Pretty dove,” Haywood buzzed, eyes still so glossy and blank, but still as full of affection as they would be completely sober and lucid. “I love all of you.”

 

“And I, you, Master,” Gavin whimpered, finally allowing his body to hug and settle against Haywood’s, skirt rutting up and hardness pursing  _deep_ into the thigh of the ringleader. Haywood purred with a proud, lazy, and knowing smile as he felt Gavin clenching onto him, humping his leg like a young pup and trembling wetly while doing so. He didn’t say a word, but Haywood already knew what Gavin was implying.

 

“So silly, little swallower. Still trying to be so strong and tough, you dare not even make a noise while doing this to me. Are you ashamed?”

 

“N -  _never_ ,” Gavin finally heaved. “I’m so ready. Ready for all of those things you said to me. I can’t hide how much I want it anymore.”

 

“It’ll be here soon, dove,” the Master chuckled. “Don’t fret.”


	4. Interlude. (Gavin/Michael/Ryan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray is a very rebellious one. He's even so selfish as to take matters in his own hands and ruin it for everyone. Gavin and Michael are worried, but their Master reminds them how much of good hands they're really in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you would like to see! [I'd love to know](http://chooboozle.tumblr.com/ask)

Michael helped Ray shuffle onto the wide open ring in front of the hundred of spectators that were there for the night before leaving back under the tarp and leaving the Strongman alone with the Master. He remained silent, although his racing heart roared profoundly in his ears, especially when the heavy hand of the ringleader fell on his shoulder. Ray felt  _exposed_  and although completely clothed in his unitard, he never felt so naked. Here everyone was cheering his name, wanting to see if he could really lift that ton weight, or even rip a door off of a volkswagon just like the posters of the circus had proclaimed.

 

Of course it was possible, Ray the Strongman Lad made it so. As he stood there out in the center of the floor, however, he never felt so weak. None of the faces were familiar and all seemed to have that little edge of hostility that made his legs quake and wanting to run back to his Michael, diving in the firebreather’s arms and holding him until they were both asleep on the hay. Gavin would be there, too, now since his performance has finished. They all would just lay in the hay, Michael and Gavin conversing about something stupid until Michael would have his little fit, causing Ray to laugh on the brink of hysteria.

 

Then it would all end with sleepy kisses and massages. Ray adored how the boys would massage his aching, used muscles after a good workout or after the ending of a decent performance. The Hispanic remembers one time of how Gavin was licking at a particular curve in his calf, kissing the sore area all over before beginning to drum his magical fingers on it. Ray strained too hard on a particular squat with a weight of Lord knows. Ray, although in pain, would be whimpering happily as Michael would kiss his lips, using familiar words that would make Ray know how much of a good job he did during his show.

 

He wish all of that were happening right now, but instead, he found himself snuggled under Ryan’s arm, being pressed close to the Master’s body. He whined as Haywood shouted into the mic, hurting his sleepy and resistant ears. He didn’t like it, not one bit. Even the reassurance of cheers from the crowd didn’t even bring so much a smile on his face.

 

Only patches of Haywood’s slurred sentences registered in Ray’s ears. He heard such words like “spectacular” and “...strongman Ray can lift over 1,000 pounds…” but other than that, there was just incoherent garble that Ray heard. The young one continued to look back over by the tarp, hoping to see Michael or Gavin popping out of there soon. He would  _love_  to have them in the ring along with him. He hated to be alone, but this was worse; now he was alone with the  _Master_  - a drunken, cold Master.

 

“Flex your arms, love,” cooed the ringleader, but to much of Ray’s confusion from his lack of knowledge of English, the Gent actually had to touch Ray’s arms, folding them in until they popped up that beautiful, healthy, and strong bicep in his left arm, causing the audience to clap. “Such a small boy, yet you’re  _gorgeous_  with that God-like body of your’s.”

 

Ray continued to shake his head, still not comprehending a word that was being said to him, especially over the loud nonsense of the audience. He wished he weren’t here that way he wouldn’t have to try and understand, he could just lay lazily with his boys, kissing them, hugging them, and falling asleep by their sides. Ray could honestly think of a hundred more things that would be better than standing out in the middle of the ring like this, but he decided that was his main wish.

 

“No,” Ray stated in a disapproving tone before large fingers were caressing at his shoulders, rubbing soft - or what  _would_  be considered soft, but to the boy, it was like needles. “No!” he shouted once again.

 

“Let me,” the Master frowned. “Let me guide you like a proper ringleader should.”

 

Ray pursed his lips and  _growled_  a feisty one before allowing the drunken man to handle his hands all over his body, patting especially on his tight tummy and chest. The touches were sloppy and Ray felt embarrassed, but the ringleader finally stopped, directing the audience’s attention to a nearby car. The Hispanic Lad frowned, knowing exactly what he was supposed to do with it. Normally, Ray would love to do this in front of his boys, showing off his strength and  core by being able to do such things that no normal human strength could do, but now he didn’t want to. He didn’t feel comfortable and there was just no denying that. He spat and crossed his arms when the ringleader tried to point him over there. He refused.

 

“Watch as he  _lifts_  the very automobile from it’s sitting. Gaze the powerful Raymond! The Stronglad!”

 

“ _No_ ,” Ray hissed, folding his arms tighter, as if they were acting as a shield to protect himself. He felt the burn of indignity, but he remained still, not moving for any man, especially for that man who calls himself a  _Master_.

 

“Ray!” Haywood shouted off mic. “Hard-headed boy, do as you’re told. You  know what to do, you don’t even have to understand me to know that much!”

 

Ray didn’t reply except that he began to run out of the ring. The Master was left in complete and utter shock, standing alone out in the middle of the heated center being left entirely abandoned by the Lad. At first, there was no noise at all; it was absolutely silent that allowed Haywood to just stare at Ray running into the tarp, never even once looking back. After that little bit of absence, however, there was a roar of negative jeers from the audience members, mostly directed towards Ray. They were hateful and offensive and the Master had no idea whether he wanted to be angry at the Lad to ruined the show by running away  _purposefully_ , or the audience making such disgusting remarks about his little boy. No matter how angry he was, Ray was still  _his_  boy and he will be fucked over Dodge if he were to allow those people jeering at his boy any longer.

 

He called for a second intermission, but nearly half of the audience members nearly left, thinking it not being worth the wait. It ripped at his heart when he turned on his own word to his beloved Brit that he wasn’t going to drink anymore for the sake of Ray when he downed yet another fifth of scotch just for the very  _reason_  of Ray. He couldn’t believe that his little boy disobeyed him; he had never done that before. Neither of them had, no matter how angry they were at him, it always ended with obedience for the sake of performance and then possibly angry make up kissing that they would share at night. Never disobedience, though, never.

 

“Ray!” Haywood barked when he stormed into the tarp, the fabric running loudly to cause all three of the boys to stir. “Come here, now,” the words grinded against the Master’s teeth, his glossy eyes shooting aimless darts at the boy.

 

“No,” Ray continued to say until Michael actually popped him, hitting the boy’s cheek with his palm. The sudden notion made Ray jump and groan, knowing exactly why he received the slap.

 

“Ray, go to the Master,” Michael snapped, tone turned to scolding and made the Hispanic pout his lip in confusion. He looked towards Gavin, seeing the sword swallower’s mouth turn into a frown with anxiety in his eyes.

 

“No, Ray, don’t scowl. You have to go.”

 

“W-why?” the boy blubbered, getting up to his feet with a glazed layer of tears on his eyes. “Can you come?”

 

“Not this time, Raymond. We have to discuss our disagreement alone,” the Master pointed towards his feet, tapping his foot before sternly saying, “ _come_ , now.”

 

Ray sludged to his feet and slowly walked towards the ringleader. The fearful, nervous beat in his heart made his fingers twitch with each rhythmic pulse. He had never gotten into major trouble with the Master before and he was terrified of what was in store for him. He met in the arms of the Master with shaking muscles.

 

“ _Por favor, señor_ ,” Ray whined. “I-I’m sorry. I was scared - still am…”

 

“You have every right to be,” the ringleader hissed, leading Ray to the back room of the tarp. It was the same room he was in earlier that night when he started to drink. His own personal and private room, the boys were not allowed to enter it at all without his permission. When the Lads were invited, they were either lead in there for a discipline or a scolding, while other times they would just be in a lock and mess of limbs with wet kisses and heaving chests. It was always so unpredictably with the Master, but it was obvious that Ray was not being lead for the tangle of kisses. “I am very disappointed with you, Raymond.”

 

Ray comprehended fully and he sniffled in return, sniffling quietly while feeling the shattering heartbreak of grief and knowing how much he disappointed nearly everyone tonight. He understood because of him that now there was barely any audience members left and he felt so awful for it. The sudden intensity of emptiness that drained Ray of all emotion remained strong when he started to tear up as Haywood pulled him into the room.

 

“Come now,  _Stronglad_ ,” the Master emphasized. “You’re nearly 20, there is no need for crying.”

 

“I-I’m s-sorry,  _Señor_.  _Mi señor,_ ” Ray was puling, hands finding their ways to holding onto the red, long sleeves of the Master’s jacket. “Forgive me; I’m scared.”

 

“There, there,” the ringleader sighed. “It’s always good to show fear to your Superior. It’s always a nice reminder to show your place next to me in line,” he stamped the floor with his boot, pointing to it and waving the Lad off, knowing that there wasn’t going to be any particle of a sentence that Ray might understand or  _want_  to understand when it came to him. Despite how he felt, he continued to talk, gazing over at Ray who pathetically ended up on his knees, hands on the ground and arched over as if preparing for a nice whippin’. Haywood rolled his eyes in confusion, but shrugged it off and continuing, “If Michael were here, you’d be glad to show your respects.”

 

“ _Mi señor_ ,” Ray looked up with a look of sadness on his face. “No.”

 

“That’s the only word you know how to use around me, isn’t it?” Haywood pursed his lips sadly, looking at the boy with a harsh glare that could cut through glass. “Only ‘no’, no ‘yes, my Master’.”

 

“My M-Master, forgive me,” Ray struggled to speak past the guilty and terrible lump that knocked at his throat. He truly felt horrible, seeing no anger that the ringleader was trying to excerpt in his speech, but only the sadness of disappointment that struck at his face. It was almost like seeing an old painting that was plastered with such bland colors to try and show some sort of light of life, when there was none. Not  _“The Experience”_  circus anymore and it was especially not “spectacular” like the posters claimed. There was sadness underneath the tarp and Ray understood fully that he was the one to blame for that.

 

He sniveled when he saw Haywood sitting down on a mound of hay - even though his chair was literally a couple of feet away from him, but he was possibly too drunk to even acknowledge that. That opened bottle of whatever clear substance that he was drinking being swallowed fully by the Master’s loose lips and the Strongman Lad even licked his own involuntarily. When he wiped his mouth, Ray looked down, trying not to meet up with the ringleader’s eyes and he tightened his muscles, bracing himself for whatever punishment were to come of this.

 

“You, stay here. I have an announcement to make,” he sighed, heaving himself up from the pile of hay. “If you so much as move, you’ll be sleeping alone tonight. Outside with the wolves.”

  
  


~

  
  


“Now, where were we?” Gavin cooed, leaning the ginger boy back on his little cot with legs already beginning to spread open for him. Michael made a noise when his fingers ran along the dirty cements, desperate to get on top of the bed so that he couldn’t have to sit in it anymore.

 

“Gavin, please,” Michael chuckled, sighing loudly when the Brit’s lips were already on his neck, nipping with soft lovebites whenever he would reach that notable sensitive skin that laid right over the bump of the firebreather’s Adam’s Apple. The swallower promised not to suckle and leave a mark; last time he did that, Michael and himself both had nice, flat hands give their rears a good spanking. As light as it may seem for punishment, Gavin would hate it if Michael had to go through that, all because it was his fault. And so he was careful, suppressing all of his wanting bites and replacing them with rougher kisses.

 

Their knees were locked together, groins grinding in almost flawlessly because just of how much experience they had together. Gavin knew everything about his boy and never was his movements needy or messy, despite how roused up he really was. He would just lay on top of Michael and grind into the boy with locking, loving kisses and little moans.

 

“ ‘aywood got me all bloody hard,” Gavin complained, thrusting upward into Michael. “God, I’m sorry for this. Usually I give you some fair warning before I come up and just hump you like a damn dog.”

 

“I knew you loved our Master,” Michael smiled, rewarding his boy with a kiss. “I’m proud. He’s been feeling depressed because of Ray.”

 

“He and I already talked, love,” Gavin mewed before falling his head into the crevasse of Michael’s neck, not helping himself to nipping softly at the base of collar, right where it began to flatten out into his shoulder. Sure, it was still visible especially from that one suit that exposed virtually all of Michael’s chest, but there was no aid in trying to stop himself. He licked at the wound once he placed his small, purple mark and apologized softly.

 

“Silly boy,” Michael laughed. “I’ll just blame it on Haywood and tell him he got too drunk to remember.”

 

“God, I hate it when he drinks,” Gavin said just above a freed breath when he began to palm at Michael’s half-hardened cock, still touching his bulge against the firebreather’s. “He’s so filthy and loose when he’s drunk. It’s no wonder Ray hates him.”

 

Michael felt a little sting in his heart when he heard the sword swallower say that. It brought a frown to his face and he struggled to push Gavin away in response. It was nothing that the swallower actually did, but it was the truth and Michael hated it. He wishes that he would have brought Ray up better at this circus; only a fool of a performer disobeys his Master and even does the act of mocking him by not completing his routine at the ring. Now the audience was leaving and there would be dreadful reviews tonight. The reputation will go down and it will all just end in a living Hell.

 

“Stop that,” Michael pouted more so talking to himself about thinking such negative things. He was beginning to slip off from under Gavin. The sword swallower made fussing noises in discontent, hands finding their way back onto the hips of Michael with peppering kisses all over. “Gavin, you mutt,  _stop_ ; I don’t want to anymore.”

 

“But Micoo,” Gavin whispered. “I’m sorry, I just need some relief right now and Haywood’s taking his fuckin’ sweet-arsed time.”

 

“Then be patient.” Michael finally pushed Gavin off of him and crawled out of the bed to settle onto a nearby mound of hay.

 

Gavin followed slowly, still ending up pressed against Michael with arms wrapping sloppily around the ginger’s waist. There was a little conversation of sighs between them when they both got settled onto the scratchy rise of straw. They didn’t mind, they were completely used to it by now. There was sounds of lowing coming from both the horses and the lions as everything began to slow down tonight. It was obvious that Haywood possibly canceled the rest of the performance for the night and will be back on tomorrow. It was disconcerting, but it had to happen and there was nothing to fix it unless Ray were to cooperate. Everyone can safely say, however, that Ray will not if he doesn’t find a reason to.

 

“I love you, Micoo,” Gavin crooned, shifting his skirt so that his legs could totally straddle the boy under him. Michael frowned, but nodded saying a small, “I love you,too,” before kissing Gavin’s lips like he wanted. He couldn’t really think of anything positive for the moment except for Ray and Haywood to finally get along.

 

“What if he beats him?” Michael blubbered shakily. “What if he’s just finally reached that point?”

 

“God, he wouldn’t lay any object upon Ray other than his hand and you know that, Micoo. Even I know that. As soon as we hear wood striking or a whip popping, we’ll drag Ray out of here and leave for ourselves, too,” Gavin explained, nestling his head against Michael’s. They were touching noses and Gavin swiped them together back and forth just like a proper eskimo kiss. It made Michael just have the dimmest of smiles. “I promise you he won’t hurt that Lad. He’ll just reinforce who’s in charge here.”

 

Michael nodded, finally allowing his hands to cup over the Brit’s face and leaning in for a deep kiss coupled with movement and even a swiping taste of tongue. It tasted just a like brimstone, if Gavin could even call it that. A mixture of a burning mixed with even the lightest taste of cherry rum, just like what their Master would drink all of the time.

 

“I see you’ve already had your little dose of our ringleader tonight, hmm?” Gavin hummed playfully, his hardness brushing up against Michael’s thigh. “Lucky cow, you.”

 

“All he did was lick me,” Michael smiled. “And I got to try to swallow  _his_  sword. I couldn’t do it, plainly, but I’m sure that tonight you’ll be able to please him. You’ll be able to take his mind off of being angry at Ray.”

 

Gavin shuddered, a shattered grouse escaping his lips along with him starting to nod, already imagining the scene that would play out between them tonight. His lips would be stretched out to their fullest potential all while being so easily able to down all of the Master’s length, making him happy and forget all of the trouble that happened tonight. He would be pleased, that’s for certain.

 

“Maybe I could just,” Gavin trailed off with a broken whisper and a small kiss on Michael’s nose before beginning to rut up against the boy again. “Seems like you need a right filling, then, don’t you? Poor li'l Micoo being denied that good stretching to fill him up until he’s just crying for Master. You’d be wanting more, wouldn’t you?”

 

“I hate you and your words,” Michael playfully replied with his hand reaching down between the both of them, rubbing on the swallower’s hard length, it straining against the skirt so much so that it might as well ride up and be out of the way for good.“Ray already got me, tonight, dear. I’m sorry.”

 

“Cheeky boy,” Gavin blushed. “Already having at our firebreather and leaving only his sloppy seconds, I suppose?” It was just supposed to be a sarcastic and flirtatious sentence, but he all stopped when the firebreather remained silent. “H-he did?”

 

Michael nodded, earning a laugh from Gavin, although it was a mildly jealous one. The swallower already had his fingers dabbling into Michael’s pants and spreading all around the rounded cheeks of the older boy just to have that seeping wetness of Ray’s warmth dripping out of him. That’s when the Brit formed a tight frown on his lips, fingers still working themselves against Michael’s skin, as if purposely spreading out the warmth that gushed from in between.

 

“Master won’t be pleased with this,” Gavin spoke softly, but truthfully and it cause Michael’s face to heat up with red, swiping away at the Brit and trying not to believe any of it.

 

“He was only trying to relieve himself, just like you are now. He just lost himself in the moment and finished himself off without having the knowledge of pulling out. It was purely innocent and I’m sure will be forgiven by the Master,” Michael huffed, the guilty pang in his chest beginning to seep through until he felt like he was going to cry. “P-please, Gavin, help me get a towel so I can dry myself off and maybe nothing bad will happen.”

  
  


~

  
  


The heavy hand of the Master latching onto his shoulder scared the living shit out of the youngest boy. He was making such pathetic noises the pleaded for the Master to not punish him, but Haywood really made no effort to even talk to be boy rather than just sitting on the chair right in front of the Lad and sipping at a cup of what seemed to be water.

 

Ray continued to shift his knees against the scratchy concrete that was under him. He didn’t want to move too much in fear that the Master would react negatively, but so far nothing seemed to happen except that the crystal blue eyes of the ringleader never left Ray’s.

 

“Come,” he finally spoke. It caused Ray’s world to begin to unravel at the very seams, but he obeyed and scootched closer to the ringleader who sat leisurely in the chair with the laziest angry expression that the boy had ever seen. He never lost sight with Haywood’s blue eyes and he made sure of it too. He was afraid that as soon as the Master would stop looking at him, then that would mean that there would be no hope for the Stronglad. Ray didn’t want to leave by all means. He loves his boys more than anything in the world and leaving his place would surely mean losing them forever. He was willing to work with anything in order to remain here, even if it dealt with a drunken ringleader touching your body as if it were his own.

 

“Señor,” the boy whispered when he finally got into touching distance of the Master’s boot. He looked up at the man and pursed his lips, trying his best to not cry anymore right then and there. The ringleader’s face was stone cold with sluggish lips that continued to lick at themselves dryly to possibly relieve that awful cottonmouth.

 

“You’ll be cleaning the whole building tonight. The rings, the stables, and even the tarp. Afterwards, I expect you to go to bed and be up by dawn to join me for breakfast, just the two of us. I’ll have a reward for all of your hard work,” the ringleader kicked off of his boots and settled back far in the chair in a lazy mesh. He took one look at the boy who have a expression as puzzled as one of Picasso's famous pieces and so Haywood just got up from his chair and grabbed a hold of a leaning shovel against the wall.

 

He tossed it to the boy who caught it was a sturdy arm. “Clean,” the Master spoke. “Until you are finished,” he enunciated every single word slowly for the Hispanic boy to understand. He did clearly and with a small sigh, he began to shovel the scattered mounds of hay in the room. Soon, he knew, that he would have to begin to shovel at the animal’s pens, something he did  _not_  look forward to.

  
  


~

  
  


“Only you can take a fucking filthy-assed rag and turn it into something sexual, you shit,” Michael sneered when Gavin tugged at the cloth again, sweeping it under him and causing him to blush every time it would run over his sensitive, dripping hole.

 

“You bent over for me with you tush in the air really isn’t helping considering I’ve got me a hard one right now,” he lifted up his skirt just to reveal to Michael what he was talking about and both of them laughed as if they were the ones who were drunk and not the ringleader. “Though I might say, having to do this isn’t as fun.”

 

“You think?” Michael grunted ever so lightly when he pushed and felt the rough rag swiping over him again. “Jesus, Gav, it’s been too long. Who knows how much that boy shot off in me?”

 

“Only God,” Gavin shrugged, tossing the rag away in defeat and beginning to pull himself over the ginger’s body, hugging at as they were both on their knees. “Little Micoo always getting into some trouble when it comes to little boys.”

 

“Are you including yourself? Because you’re going to get punched in the dick if you try anything.”

 

Gavin giggled, before pulling at the soft curls of the ginger, making Michael’s head tip back to expose that plump and round throat. The oldest boy made a noise under him when he did that, causing that Apple to bob so smoothly upward before beginning to sink back down. It made Gavin shudder, wanting to lick and touch all around the ginger’s throat and even play with his daggers a bit.

 

“You have such a nice throat, Micoo,” the swallower finally whispered against the other’s ear before grazing it with a soft kiss. “I could teach you the ways of the sword. We could start small like knives...or even,” he turned over Michael’s face to brush a rough, stubbled kiss on his velvet, peached chin. It was covered with just the smallest layer of fuzz, nothing too rough and nothing completely bare. It was everything Gavin could dream of.

 

“Go ahead and just say it, boi, I know what you’re implying at.”

 

“I could teach you to swallow  _my_  dagger. Not as big as the bloody ringleader’s. Plus my fat, blunt head won’t dare cut that candy throat of your’s.”

 

“ _Shit_ , Gavin,” Michael whimpered, finally tossing his body over so that the swallower could finally stop leaning on him in such an uncomfortable way. They both landed in the mound of hay the Michael has been sitting in for God knows how long now and they met yet another kiss, Gavin’s itching fingers already beginning to poke at Michael’s neck, aching to wrap around his throat in the most gentlest of ways.

 

“We could start small like a knife,” Gavin whispered so  _sultry_  with warm breath the older boy’s lips before they slotted together so loosely and carefree. “Get that throat ready to prepare for something bigger, ‘nd there’s always something bigger,” he chuckled.

 

“You’re a fucking urchin,” Michael happily cooed. “Stop it.”

 

“ _Please_ , I’ve think Haywood’s given up on me tonight.”

 

“Oh,  _really_ , now?” said a thick, damp voice. It caused both of the boy’s skins to crawl right underneath their fingertips, them jumping in such excitement yet  _intimidation_  when the ringleader shuffled right past the fabric tear in the door and stepped into the room. The wicks flickered with the wind when he walked inside and Gavin  _melted_  crooning happily as he jumped right off of the ginger and straight into the arms of the Master.

 

They were wobbly and unsettled with the usual,  _powerful_  strength behind them faltering. Gavin frowned, already knowing.

 

“You’re drunk again.”

 

“Are you  _kidding_  me? If you had that boy ruin your whole show, you would be drunk, too. Please, let me just --”

 

Michael made a  _terrible_  complainant-like noise that got both of their attentions and their eyes immediately settled on the ginger. He was desperately trying to pull up his pants out of guilt, hoping that the Master wouldn’t see his dribbling.

 

“S-sorry, I hate it when you guys argue. We’re better than that.”

 

The ringleader took Gavin into his arms and pulled him into an apologetic, warm kiss. Gavin tried his best to not completely swoon into a puddle when that faint taste of butterscotch was being licked at by his tongue. There was no helping as he tightly wrapped his arms around the Master’s neck, licking eagerly at those soft, slack lips that were numbed by the alcohol. Try as he may, he was too aroused and pleased to be angry at his ringleader anymore for the night.

 

“I was trying to teach our little firebreather here the ways of the sword,” Gavin opened his mouth just so the Master could poke curiously with his tongue running in between them. It made the words of the swallower dumb and muffled, but they were clear in all three of their ears. Michael shifted ever so uncomfortably in the batch of hay, still concerned with the leakage in his pants that kept his mind steady on the youngest of them all, Ray.

 

“Please, Master, I’m begging to know what you did with him,” his voice was just over a whisper.

 

It took only a couple more seconds for a response, the reluctant, intoxicated Master pulling away from his deserving kisses from his Miss. Gavin lead the wobbly man over by a high stack of hay and the ringleader muttered something deep and incoherent.

 

“He’s cleaning,” he sighed. “Will probably make him come in here and get rid of all this straw that we don’t need. It only leaves messes.”

 

“Sir, please don’t be too harsh on him --”

 

“Too harsh!” Haywood laughed before Gavin began to pull on his cuffs, undoing them and tossing them to the side for the night. It was always such a hassle to begin to work off every article of clothing that the ringleader wore, but it was professional and Gavin was please to have his Master dressed like this.

 

“Too harsh,” Michael pouted, folding his arms. “He’s a sweet boy when you let yourself come to know him.”

 

“Please, I believe you’ve both poisoned his mind with such thoughts of how all I am is a drunken loser of a Master.”

 

“Stop that, you’re on  _my_  time now,” Gavin kissed at Haywood’s lips, dragging his palms all around the cut, stubbled cheeks of the man. He pushed at him until they both parted and Gavin immediately lifted his skirt just to get a groan out of the ringleader, an edgy one at that. “Look what you’ve done to me. See how your little sword swallower is all hard for you? Hard and  _wet_  just like you’ve mentioned before?”

 

“My pretty Miss,” Haywood would have fallen right into it if Gavin was planning a trap. With excited fingers, he crawled so lazily towards the Brit, his  _prize_  who spread his legs out so wide and ample to expose that dark, puckered hole that was perfectly place within those fat, luscious cheeks and his hard, silky cock pressed so perfectly against his navel “You turn me into a panting dog with the way you present yourself to me. See me crawling for you.”

 

“My  _Master_ , I’m the one who could be the pup crawling to you,” Gavin giggled, finally untying that useless skirt and tossing it towards Michael who only caught it because of how  _enticed_  he was by this picture. His only regret was that Ray could’ve been here joining in but instead he’s sweeping up manure and treating the animals in the stable.

 

Gavin was fully exposed as he undid that  _gorgeously_  dreadful corset that should not have acted as his top. His skin was glossed with a fine layer of sweat that shimmered in the light. He mewed so cutely when the Master finally reached him after his deal of crawling, tongue immediately licking upward on his hard, glistening cock.

 

“I knew you had to be  _mad_  to deny your Master,” Haywood breathed deeply mouth already beginning to fumbly wrap around the silky head of Gavin’s cock. The swallower moaned so pitchy like a well used whore and made Michael whimper out the finest wail that would have made any Master or ringleader shudder. He also began to come over with jittery fingers already beginning to pull at Haywood’s trousers, the rough black material scraping the scars on his fingers from his previous burns. He didn’t mind, it added a nice brink to the mix. The ringleader worked with the ginger to kick off his pants and reveal that heavy, thick tent that peaked in his underwear.

 

“Our Leader is so hard for our sword swallower, isn’t he?” Michael trembled, voice being held on such a shaky foundation. There was only a hungry, low groan that came from the man in reply, his hands already pulling off his underwear and trashing them as if they meant nothing more to him. Michael began to drag himself forward, knees trudging against the cemented floor so that he could come over to the other two.

 

“ _God_ , please,” Gavin cried when the slight wiggle of tongue brushed faintly over his tightening balls just as Haywood sank his mouth down on his cock. It was the thick drips of drools that slid all the way down until they were even sinking into his already wettening cleft. The Brit snatched a hold of Michael’s arm, pulling him in for such a thirsty kiss all while his hips were shamelessly bucking up into the eldest’s mouth. “M-Micoo,” Gavin breathed when they parted. “God, Micoo, see how easy it is? Our Master is doing the finest job of swallowing me down. I-I could teach you if you wanted me to --  _Oh!_ ” Gavin lost himself, pushing down when the intrusion of Haywood’s fingers came into play, diddling with his puckered, wet rim and threatening to even plunge in without the slightest of warnings.

 

When he pulled away from the Brit and slotted back on his knees,Michael made a noise that got the Master’s and swallower’s attention as Haywood pulled off of Gavin only to kiss at the firebreather, almost apologetically for seeming to leave him out of the mix.

 

“I’ll tend to you later, cute sheep. Master has been waiting for this feisty swallower to give in  _all_  night.” He nuzzled his face against Michael’s forehead, kissing it lightly before returning almost instantly back to Gavin, lips once again rubbing at that plump, leaking tip. “But that is a good idea, Gavin. Why don’t you teach our little firebreather how to down  _real_  sized swords instead of those petty knives and daggers you’re talking about.”

 

Gavin shuddered, almost all of his naked skin rising with the chills of goosebumps when the man said that. He began to crawl on his knees, ending up with his face in Haywood’s bare lap and tongue already darting out to lick all traces of his hard, thick flesh. Michael uttered a curse or something while his hands were involuntarily clasping around the thin ankles of Gavin, one hand also settling against Haywood’s lap while the other was on Gavin’s scalp, helping him guide.

 

Haywood’s cock stood thick and proud in his lap as the Brit was licking it, preparing it to go down just as if it were that sharpened steel blade. This was a  _whole_  lot better though. No one around to witness, no slicing of any internal skin, and especially the natural heat that came with his cock made Gavin lick thirstily around, even popping the man’s heavy cock into his mouth just for a tease - just so hear Haywood say  _“God above”_  or  _“my tender boys - so good to me”_. Gavin adored it and so did Michael when he and Master both shared such occasional, hidden kisses. The swallower worked beautifully on Haywood’s cock, treating it like the finest dagger he ever touched before finally beginning to settle at the very peak of his tip, preparing his throat as he dived down  _flawlessly_.

 

The Master roared with a heavy, blasphemous moan when he felt the constricting of Gavin’s soaking wet throat close around his cock when he sank fully on. The Brit breathed  _deeply_ , trying to maintain himself with Michael jerking a messy hand on his hard cock, whispering such dirty encouragements when his boi took every last inch of flesh that the ringleader had to offer. It was  _intense_  with the stretching of his throat being nothing he ever felt before. He’s never swallowed anything  _this_  thick, especially since the last time Haywood had densed out a lot.

 

“M-my God,” the man shuddered with twitchy fingers fisting up into Gavin’s hair and pulling wish the familiar strength that he possessed  _sober_. With slow thrusts, he began to pathetically try to fuck himself into Gavin’s tight mouth but it was nearly impossible and he slowed himself to a stop in surrender, just allowing that magic, working tongue of Gavin take him over.

 

“A- _augh_ , Lord God, I’m going to tip over right into your tiny throat - your  _perfect_ , blessed throat,” the eldest was babbling like a maniac, biting his lips and trying to find those correct and able words to describe the pleasure that he was gaining from with thick beads of precum already beginning to shoot out as if it were his actual cream, instead. “N-no, no, no,” his level was brought  _low_  to an actual kitten whine, begging for his swallower to pull off. “P-please, before I cum,  _please_ , get off of me, sweet boy.”

 

Gavin pulled off with a long  _slurp_  and a loud  _pop_  of the rounded head against his cheek. The man writhed, something that neither performer has ever seen before since their dealing with the Master, but it made both of their eyes widen with absolute shock to see their Master acting like that, desperately grabbing a hand around his cock and squeezing it until it was growing red as a bleeding rose so that he wouldn’t lose himself with a ripping orgasm. The Brit purred proudly, pulling the ginger in for a kiss of pride and snuggling his nose against the other’s.

 

“ _That’s_  how you do it. Make our Master lose his mind over us.”

 

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking porn professional, aren’t you? That industry is growing you know, maybe you could go there if the circus were to ever fail,” Michael laughed with a hand already palming at his overworked and hardened cock that bulge against the shimmery flame resistant material.

 

“Nonsense!” Haywood sputtered out. “None of my boys will leave me. Now come over here, little  _minx_  and ride me like I’ve asked you a thousand times before. Perhaps I can get that little Michael to lick you all nice and opened for me;  won’t you be a dear, Dragon?”

  
  


~

  
  


Ray was quick to clean all around the animals, making sure he petted both Shakespeare and Helga, those lovely lions. They have given birth to a healthy litter of cubs that were all sold to the local zoo. That made Ray sad, especially when Michael said that they would possibly be keeping these babies. That was long ago, though. About 3 months back.

 

He continued to sweep and shovel past the animals, getting poked at by the elephant tusks, zebra snouts, and even the teeth of horses which were desperate to be fed a bundle of hay. Ray loved the animals and so this whole cleaning job wasn’t even really a hassle for him. He tried to be optimistic with himself, give himself a good pat on the back for standing up against the Master. Still, he felt miserable when he saw the look of both judgement and disappointment upon both Michael’s and Gavin’s faces. Even the saddened, angry expressions that the Master made cause a deep crack to surge against Ray’s heart. He felt sorry, he truly did.

 

Perhaps he would make it up to the Master tonight. Maybe he could finally work around the deal of touching and actually let the Master hold him as they were share kisses. It was all so foreign to the Lad and honestly, he doesn't know if it will be okay. Maybe Haywood would kick him out tonight, make him grovel in the streets doing side shows at parties and earn disgusting licks and lashes from people who would pass him on the roads and see him begging for money.

 

But, of course, it was all Ray working himself up over nothing. Perhaps he was just over thinking everything.

 

Tonight, he determined, that he would make it up to Haywood and apologize for everything, including his boys.

 

Tomorrow night, he determined, he would be the best Stronglad this circus had to offer.

 

And then maybe Haywood wouldn’t drink so much.

  
  


~

  
  


“ _Heavens above, yes!_ ” Gavin squealed with the burning stretch of the Master’s cock beginning to overcome him as he sank down eagerly. He was  _soaked_  from the dashing of Michael’s tongue that opened him up better than the Master, the man would even say so himself. He learned from the best, that’s for sure.

 

“S-slowly,” Haywood hissed, eyes rolling back and that hint of euphoria beginning to show itself as Gavin sank down completely, slick walls already beginning to squeeze so much so that the Master would have spilt over right then and there if he weren’t careful. The swallower’s fat, plump ass bouncing with each sudden thrust, even the smallest of once, made the man completely lose his  _mind_  with rough hands finding their way over the smooth, rounded cheeks of the naked swallower.

 

It was not slow whatsoever, the word “slow” even spoken by the Master was completely discarded and left for trash when Gavin began to ride and bounce fast and fervently on the man’s cock, having it stretch and fill him to the every brim with each time he sank down. There were  _deep_  moans between them accompanied by the little noises of Michael taking in the entire scene before him. His pretty boi riding Haywood like he was fucking  _made_  for it. That beautiful, dark rim of his hole being visibly stretched whenever he would sink back down until he would be perfectly sat in the seat of the ringleader’s lap, those thirsty curses and wails that he would make just from fucking himself on that thick cock, the wonderful grunts that would come from the Master allowing himself to just stay still and let his little Miss sword swallower just please himself.

 

Gavin’s cock was bobbing and drooling with each bounce, it being totally neglected for the sake of  _right now_  before Michael begged to wrap a hand around it, mouth beginning to water just from how tasty it looked. He wanted to sink his mouth on it, just like Gavin demonstrated so superbly on the Master before. He wanted to please his boi  _and_  his ringleader even if he was just a spectator for now taking in the movements and wet thrusts before him.

 

“My tight Gavin,” Haywood gritted, spitting out a large  _“fuck”_  before actually thrusting upward to meet the swallower’s bounces, taking him by surprise with an open and feeble mouth just from how  _full_  the cock made him.

 

“G-God!” Gavin squeaked with his hand finally  _now_  wrapping around his cock and jerking it. “Jesus Christ, you’re so big Master. N-not too much though, I can swallow your python down as if it were a fucking  _worm_  -- oh, yes, right there!”

 

Haywood took control, his arms wrapping around the small frame of his Gavin and beginning to pound in as if he were finally set free from his cage. The  _agony_  of just sitting there and taking that tight rim squeezing around his cock and not being able to do anything about it was utter torture - torture that he could only tolerate from his darling boys. He  _growled_ , letting Gavin go limp against his chest with wet, lax lips dribble all over his clothed chest. At times, there would be a curse to be drawn from his mouth, but other than that it was just broken sobs and fragments of Haywood’s name. Gavin’s hand was no longer around his cock, but more so gripping on for dear life against the shoulder blades that perched on Haywood’s back. Any more stronger, the Brit would have torn through that rough material just like wet tissue.

 

Finally, the walls of the boy  _closed_  in so hot and tight that it was all for the Master to do to keep from shouting Gavin’s name when he felt his little boy finally spill over that hot cream all over his shirt, seeping down through the fabric and even against his stomach. Michael watched hungrily, noting audibly of how Gavin didn’t even have to touch himself in order to reach the peak of his orgasm. It was all so  _dirty_ and the ginger couldn’t get enough when he saw Haywood slowing to a stop, a low  _keen_  being ripped from his chest as he rode out the remainder of his own orgasm.

 

There was thick drops of wet white dribbling out of Gavin and rolling back onto Haywood’s cock before he finally pulled out of the Lad, meeting him in loving and adoring kisses, thankful for the release.

 

“Mine,” the Master whirred jealously leaning forward to pull Michael by his shirt just so they could collide in a rough, dominating kiss; it was the kiss that Michael was  _glad_  to submit for, allowing Haywood’s tongue completely take over his mouth. When they ripped apart, Gavin slid off weakly and used, sinking down onto the hay and just allowing himself to rest and take in that blanketing  _warmth_  that took over him just like a pool.

 

“I feel your seed inside of me,” he moaned just like a tiny girl, closing his legs in fear that some more would drip out. “I-it’s so warm and…”

 

“Rest now, sugar,” the Master interrupted. “Just lay there. I’ll come and put you in your bed soon.”

 

“I want to sleep with you, Master,” Gavin gave a gripe of a cry, fidgeting his legs and flickering them when he felt the drizzle of another bead of cum leaving his hole.

 

“Later,” Haywood pleaded. “I have to check on that wonderful boy, Ray.”

 

“You seem in such a better mood, Master,” Michael smiled. he shifted his pants, gasping when he felt that large hand of his Master running over his wet ass, groping it as if it were  _his_. Michael gave a sad sob, shaking his head desperately when he heard the ringleader give a deep rumble.

 

“Where’d you get that mark on your pale neck?”

 

Michael hesitated, gulping loudly before pointing towards Gavin. Gavin was quick to shift, trying not to spill over himself from being so full and he made an confirming, although saddened noise. The Master folded his arms and gritted his teeth before murmuring something like “get you two later” before he continued, “you’re all wet and I know it’s not from me. You’ve already had your bit tonight with me or Gavin because you wouldn’t even let him come near your twitchy rim, so who could’ve it been?” his voice was suddenly rough and possessive, completely switching back from the lazy and comforting that it was just a second ago.

 

“R-Ray. It was Ray, sir. I’m sorry. I tried to...I tried to tell him to pull out --”

 

“He  _finished_  in you?!”

 

“ _Please_ , sir it isn’t his fault! He doesn’t know any better!”

 

“I’ll be  _damned_!” Haywood shot up to his feet, grabbing his pants and trying to snatch him onto his body. He was drunk and so he tripped and toppled a lot (and Michael had to admit, doing that while he was angry was quite entertaining to watch) but ultimately, he got them on and with angry  _clicks_  of his shoes began to walk out of the tarp.

 

“Please, Master,” Michael begged, a soft sob coming out of his chest along with a guilty heave. “ _Please_  don’t punish him anymore tonight.”

 

“I don’t count it as punishment for him  _licking you clean_  and ridding you from his filthy paste. Your pretty holes are only reserved for  _me_ , got it?! I’ll also make him lick  _me_  clean before the night is said and done with.”

 


	5. Ray I (Raywood)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray finally learns how great his Master can be~

Ray would have never felt that strong hand grip his shovel to snatch it out of his grasp. The Master came up to him in silence, just like a sneaking viper. He had a scowl; it was the kind of expression that struck complete  _fear_  into the Hispanic and he was already pleading, apologizing for anything that would have upsetted the ringleader.

 

The Master had his staff with him, something that he rarely ever had in his grasp other than when performing, and he poked at the ground with it, tapping the hard-packed dirt to instruct the Hispanic to  _come here, now_. He didn’t like where this was going and with the pace that could mimic a slug, he began to drag his feet towards the Master.

 

“ _Si, señor_ ,” the Lad obeyed, head down.

 

“You have some nerve, don’t you?” Haywood droned, grabbing Ray by the shoulder. It wasn’t anything harsh, but it surely alerted the younger boy, making him look up and meet the eyes of his Master. They were empty - surely drunk and toxic. With a heavy grasp, the ringleader held onto the Lad and began to pull him, leading him back under the tarp where their rooms and dressing areas were. Ray could already feel the nervous sting of his racing heart; his muscles were already beginning to twitch, readying to run or defend.

 

The lights were already beginning to flicker, preparing to darken down for the night. The carnival music continued on and on with the agonizing feel of the music getting even slower as the record threatened to skip with the scratched grooves from overuse. The mood was unsettling and the boy despised it. The only thing worse that he could think of was the Master having the actual fit of beating him. It hasn’t happened yet, with the only exception of some slaps to wake up. Michael was  _sure_  that Haywood wouldn’t touch the boys in such a way again, begging to be the one to take punishments in place of them.

 

That hasn’t happened  _yet_  and Ray was groaning in response to the gut wrenching pain at the image of seeing Michael be spanked in place for him.  _That_  was the idea that nothing could be worse for the Hispanic than that: seeing the love of his life taking lashes for his own punishment.

 

When they entered the tarp, Ray was immediately pulled into a hug with tickling, red curls brushing up against his face as Michael dipped in for a small kiss, only enough for just a peck. It was all that Ray needed, however, when he hugged Michael back, making sure that he wasn’t squeezing too hard. Sometimes, the youngest Lad had an awful habit of forgetting how strong he was and he was close to spraining Gavin’s back one day when they met in a huge hug.

 

“Are you alright, love?” the Brit asked, kissing the stronglad’s cheek when he walked towards them. “Master hasn’t been mean, has he?” Gavin was only clothes with a sheet, which Ray recognized at the Master’s, wrapped around his waist. The boy noted that the swordswoller’s original garb was strewn across the room, mixing in with the small piles of hay along with the shoes being scattered as well. There was that coat of jealousy again when Ray could smell the faint aroma of alcohol on the Brit’s tongue whenever their lips slotted together once Michael was out of the way to allow Gavin to kiss him.

 

“Not  _yet_ ,” Haywood chimed, snapping his fingers. “All of you, sit.”

 

“Ray, come on,” Michael smiled kindly, pulling the younger boy by his hands while he plopped down on a batch of hay. Ray nodded, beginning to settle down right beside of Michael’ leaning in close and hugging his arms around the older firebreather’s waist. He reeked of hay and sweat with the very faint scent of smolder and ash lingering on his clothes. Ray loved it, growing accustom to the scent of his Michael.

 

Haywood muttered something that he couldn’t understand to Gavin who just nodded, tightening the sheet over himself and sitting down of Ray, opposite of Michael. He laid his head against the younger Lad, breathing heavily as if totally exhausted.

 

“Ray, you’ll sleep with the Master tonight,” he hummed. Ray raised an eyebrow with his eyes widening in total shock. The words, they registered instantaneously when he heard the word “sleep” and “Master”.

 

“N-no?” he asked, mostly because of how confused he really was. Why did Haywood suddenly want Ray to sleep with him? He was shaking, beginning to tremble against Michael’s fingers when they rubbed at his arms. Usually such a comforting notion, now was  _beyond_  unsettling. Ray started to get up from sitting until Michael grabbed at his hand, begging him to not leave just yet.

 

“Ray, come on. He wants to make things right,” he was hoping that the Hispanic could understand him, but Ray was struggling against him just a cat trying to avoid a bath.

 

“ _Why?_ ” Ray grew frantic, especially when the Master came back with his rod in his hand. His face was not as harsh as it seemed before, but it was still terrifying to Ray. When he was brought up by his arm from the man, he trembled.

 

“Come, Ray. I must teach you the best way I know how. If we don’t resolve this now, your act will decline much like it did tonight.” There were winces coming from the two other performers, shaking their heads in disappointment as they recalled the Hispanic’s disobedience towards his act. It was unfathomable; Michael, especially, was saddened by it. He knew he brought the youngest Lad up better than that. He should have known that the boy would have grown rebellious towards their true Master; he was too late to stop it.

 

“I promise, Ray,” the ginger came up from the hay to kiss the stronglad a light kiss on the cheek for reassurance. “He won’t hurt you.”

 

“He will,” the boy sniffled. His accent soaked through like a thin tissue drenched with water. He looked up Haywood with muggy eyes and a shivering lip. “Please,” he begged.

 

The Master looked at him with raised eyes before he tilted down to plant a small kiss upon Ray’s forehead. It felt like  _ice_  to the Lad, but more so because he barely ever received kisses from the ringleader. He wouldn’t let him despite what Gavin and Michael did. It was all too foreign and uncommon to let this older man give him such hugs, strokes, or kisses. He stood in silence before being pulled at by his arm and taking one last look at the two other, older performers while he stepped away.

  


~

  


Ray was trying to hold himself strong, messing with his hair in the mirror while the ringleader was out. They exchanged such a small amount of words that made Ray feel empty; there was a pressing fist against his throat that choked him so. It was started to seep into his skin how badly he really messed up tonight. As much as he didn’t want to face it, it was the truth. He failed everyone including his boys and the audience. According to Michael, the most important person of which he failed was the Master, but Ray honestly know how to feel about that. All his life, Haywood only has been drunk and stupid around him. Not once had the eldest ever taken the time to try and get to know the Hispanic on a personal level. It was just business. The language communication barrier was one of the main reasons why Ryan and Ray never really spoke to each other and it was too late to start now, in the youngest’s opinion.

 

He continued to ruffle up his hair until it was fluffy enough to his liking. His hair always clung to his face due to sweat and natural oil to protect his skin from all of the heat. He always wanted to have his hair so lovely and poofy, but he dare wouldn’t tell anyone that. If anyone were to find out that he had a fancy for wanting to look all girlish and fine, it would be the death of him.

 

Right now, he was smiling in the mirror with the bulbs circled all around the frame to brighten every detail of his face, making it seem practically flawless. He was smiling like the firebreather would do after his act of flame spitting. He always wanted to wink at the audience in such a beautiful and seductive manner like the ginger would always do after his performance. Ray would love to blow kisses to the people, showing the loving soft side that he possessed over his physical strength. Like the gentle giant, he would be looked up to and adored at the same time.

 

He continued to distract himself as he then began to lick his lips, darkening them as if they were a red, lush form of lipstick. He’s only seen Gavin and Michael where lipstick  _once_  and that was after they bet each other they wouldn’t do it. It ended up with them leaving love kisses on Ryan’s mirror, smearing in writing with the stick of wax “Love Always - from your boys” and a little heart next to it. It made Ray giggle, even if he didn’t think about whether he meant the note of love and affection or not.

 

There were still smudges of that pink writing on the reflective glass.

 

“My, aren’t you beautiful?” the deep voice of Haywood slurred as he stumbled in. He wasn’t in his proper clothing. In fact, he was barely wearing any form of clothes except for a pair of underwear and a white over shirt that aid in keeping warm. It conformed to the boy of the ringleader quite nicely, Ray had to admit to himself even if it wasn’t aloud. The shorten sleeves bulged perfectly against the rounds of Haywood’s muscles in his arms. They reminded the boy of his own except not as dense.

 

If Ray and Haywood ever got in a tussle, the boy honestly wanted to know who would win.

 

“What?” Ray asked, acting like he didn’t hear what the Master said. He played dumb, trying not to blush when he saw the man staring at the mirror, looking in his eyes.

 

The older man laughed, plopping on the bed with spread legs and and opened, limp arms that dangled from the bed. “I said  _you’re beautiful_. Don’t pretend you can’t understand me. I'm not like Michael or Gavin. I know that you know more English than you're letting on.

 

Ray gave a small gasp. The words of the intoxicated man wasn't far from truth. Ray honestly sometimes pretends he doesn't know specific words only so that Michael could give him a reward once he decided to speak it. The boy’s English was only primitive at the best. “Ah,” Ray shortly spoke, trying his best to not look at the man laying in the bed in the mirror. He saw that the Master was beginning to idly muddle himself across the bed, making a little happy snicker just from how plastered he was from the liquor. It made Ray squeamish, but he tried to make the best of it. He will be strong.

 

“Come on, dear. I don’t want to argue with you, sugar-boy. Let’s try and talk,” the Master made some movements that shook the bed before he began to tap the mattress with his hand, sighing soft. He was trying to show Ray that there was an open space for him and the boy actually blushed, trying to hide his face so that his red cheeks wouldn’t be so exposed in the light. Haywood actually  _offering_  a place by his side, it was more than Ray could handle in such short notice.

 

“M-mad at me,” the boy sputtered, now diving his face in his arms on the desk. He didn’t look in the mirror, but just in the darkness in the folds of his arms. He felt rebellious, purposely denying his ringleader’s offers whenever they arose. He could tell in the man’s voice that he was still drunk. There was nothing lucid or sober about this experience; it meant  _nothing_. “All you wanna do is touch me.”

 

“I honestly  _do_ ,” Ryan moaned lowly like a sleeping tiger. “If I can be truthful, I’ve been wanting to properly touch my little boy and his cute, small cock ever since he dragged his ass over here. I was respectful, though.” He continued to pat the bed on the empty space that was next to him. “Come ‘ere, sweetheart, and let me show you how  _proud_  you make your Master. He’s not mad anymore. He just wants to show you the proper way to fuck,” he smirked, getting a visible twitch from the Lad. “You’re meant to be bred according to my eyes. I can’t help the fact that all I want to do is feed my cock to you and just let you be fat and lazy with my happy puppies growing in you.”

 

Ray gasped, nibbling at the lush bottom part of his lip. There was no way that he wanted to indicate to the ringleader that he understood nearly everything that was said to him in understandable fragments. He was  _awful_  at hiding his feelings too as he heard Haywood’s deep chuckle roll through him like a trail. “Little stronglad, you’re trembling. Are you weakening, suddenly?”

 

“You yelled at me because of what I did to Michael,” Ray struggled to say without sniffling heavily to interrupt his sentence sound structured sentence. He didn’t want the Master seeing him cry, but he was damn near close. “You yelled at me.”

 

“I got angry only because I don’t want my boys to grow so 'cushy' with one another,” his statement earned him a pitiful groan from the Lad who just pressed his feet to the legs of the chair of which he was sitting in. “My boys are so fruitful and fertile; just one mess up could earn you some kits that don’t belong to me,” Haywood laid fully on the bed, making it creak just a little bit more. His eyes never left the back of Ray’s head or the mirror, however. "And all of my babies' kits will be  _mine_. No one else’s.”

 

He continued to look at Ray lay his head down like a dramatic actress that never got what she truly wanted. He had to smirk at his comparison, seeing at how the boy was just so  _young_ , ignorant, and little. He barely even had a chance to even  _look_  at a real, thick, possessive cock. He has such a big ego right now with the relationship with Michael, he honestly has no clue what his ringleader really was capable of doing.

 

He heard Ray make some abrasive, negative noises as he began to lift his head, still looking at the mirror through a shield of tears that watered his eyes. Haywood could see the disappointment that struck the boy’s face. “Don’t give me that look, my dear,” the smashed ringleader begged. “You were meant to be a beautiful, gorgeous mother who trembles with preciousness, you’re so frail. You’re not proud like a father would be. You wouldn’t have any idea of how to care for both a lover boy to bare your children along with the actual kids themselves.”

 

Ray gritted his teeth, taking out the bits and pieces of the sentences to try and understand. He began to clearly once he heard all of the family terms. He made him upset, when in reality he knew that Haywood was right. He had no idea how to be a father, and he didn’t even know if he would make a damn good one at that. Laying with his boy Michael, it was just for the intimacy of each other - the  _love_  that they shared and he just grew too excited.

 

“I-I’m not a pretty mother,” Ray argued flatly, accent beginning to strangle his words as he felt the knot welling up in his throat. It was so hard to try to talk to someone who he had been purposely avoiding until now when he has no other choice. “I’ll never be pretty like Michael 'nd Gavin. I’m a boy with big muscles; ‘m not slim.”

 

“I don’t want to hear any of that,” he heard the Master’s voice speak behind him. It was full of haste and concern. “My three beautiful boys are perfect in their own way. God, the way Gavin and Michael gossip and try to put on that whorish make up,” he chuckled recalling that time. “I love it. But  _you_ ,” he began, sitting up on the bed to cause even more of a metallic creak to clangor through the room. There was a little pause of silence and it  _killed_  Ray until he was convinced that he was rotten from the inside out. He whined when he felt even hotter because his body’s reaction to the sudden kindness of his ringleader’s words. “You’re are magnificent. God, look at you. You’re perfect chiseled body round with brilliant, strong muscles that you’ve been blessed with. You look like one of those sinful playboy models that strut in their skimpy underwear and high thighs lookin’ with those pretty golden eyes.”

 

Ray couldn’t help himself when he began to grin, hiding back down and digging his face into the skin of his arm and trying suppress those little laughs that bounced around in his chest. From the fluttering way that Haywood’s tone was in plus the familiar charming words such as “magnificent”, “strong”, and “brilliant”, he knew that the Master was giving him praises. He was a sucker for compliments. Michael was even successful of making Ray absolutely  _gush_  by telling him how pretty he was and dolling some of this fire protectant spray on his hair that smelled absolutely wonderful and let his hair take shape of what seemed to be fire. Ray would even shiver over whenever Michael would praise him over his improving English.  He loved the praises so much, he wanted to beg for more. He finally lift up from laying down on his arms and have Haywood a flashing grin in the mirror.

 

“I-I have always wanted those stockings,” he shakily spoke, hoping that he was actually saying the right words in English for his Master to understand. He must have because there was a laugh that resembled a lusty serpent with as much sadistic hiss as anything.

 

“I’ll get my lovely Ray some thin, white panty hoes or stockings. They’d compliment his legs so nicely,” there was a small groan that layered Haywood’s slurred, drunken speech. “Won’t you come here, pretty kitten? I want to touch those legs.”

 

Ray felt the heat of temptation as well as the ice of repulsion from wanting to actually lay at Haywood’s side. This would be the first they were to ever intimately touch. Even a simple grace of fingers across their arms before they would interlink for a hug would be the most affectionate touch that they’ve ever shared. It frightened Ray, but as much as he felt the tingling excitement bombard him so, he finally got up on his feet and brushed himself off. He could feel his knees weakening, beginning to lock up and buckle in just like one of the newborn animals in the circus. As much as he wanted to walk with a confident gate, he couldn’t and continued to stumble with each step he took.

 

“Are you nervous or something, my dear?” the Master asked in a saturated breath, sleepily laying back down on his side with a cozy smile. “You don’t have to be nervous. I’ve already seen your stunning body for what it’s worth already,” he hummed happily when he saw the expression of shock and blush strike the young Lad’s face. “That’s right. I’ve seen you nude and bare; I knew you were cute, but  _goodness_ boy, I couldn’t stop thinking of you that night. A prize, I called you,” he smiled. He patted the empty space next to him on the sheets once more before Ray finally began to crawl on top of the bed, diving the bones of his knees deep against the old mattress as his dense body finally laid on the bed. He felt so  _awkward_  that he covered his face with his own hands in order to prevent himself from looking at Haywood. He didn’t know if he would be able to take those blue eyes looking at him in  _adoration_  and lust as opposed to disappointment and anger.

 

“S-scared,” Ray finally answered, pulling the sheets over his body as if he were tucking himself in alone for the night as always. “Don’t want to mess up.”

 

“My God,” the Master gave a saddened sigh, taking his hands and beginning to rub affectionately at Ray’s arms and shoulders. The boy gasped suddenly, holding himself close as he let the ringleader graze his hands all over his skin. He normally wouldn’t let Haywood do this, but now was the time for action. Perhaps there was something more to this man rather than just alcohol and a deep, ragging voice. As of the moment, his touches were gentle and sweet, but would they remain that way? Would they become much more rough once Ray finally gives in? “My boy, you won’t mess up, you  _can’t_  - it’s impossible,” he drew his body closer until his chest was pinned against Ray’s arms, causing the boy to shift and give a soft whine. “Ray, I don’t say this enough but I love you. I want my boy to love me back,” there were cupped lips planting a soft pecking kiss on Ray’s nose and making the boy squeal in surprise. “I want to show you how you  _really_  deserve to be treated: like a fair princess waiting to be escorted by her prince.” Haywood’s breath was warm and smelled of Irish honey with his lips ticking over Ray’s skin as he talked. There was a smile stitched on his face, too, dumbly showing how much he was sincere for his words.

 

There was already shocks racing themselves down the stronglad’s body and making his cock twitch with a faint jolt. He winced, digging his face into Ryan’s chest and trying not to make any noises. The words, he could just barely understand them and  _God_  they were making him loose and hot to where he kicked off the sheets that wrapped around his body. Like any excited boy, he was so willing already for that physical touch. This was something whole and  _new_  and made his body itch with those goosebumps. There was only that quiet, appeased purr that rumbled through Haywood’s chest and against Ray’s cheeks before the Master finally pulled the boy away so they could share an amature, fumbling kiss.

 

Ray was  _taken_ , eyes rolling back and shutting close as he found himself sipping from his Master’s lips as if they were sweet candy. It seemed that nothing was wrong once they’ve connected like this. All past arguments, shouting, and misunderstandings just  _shattered_  and blew away with the unforgiving wind. The boy clung onto Haywood’s sleeping shirt with his tight hands, knees bolting up and folding in humiliated instinct to hide his growing arousal. He could feel the Master’s hands trailing down his body, smoothing themselves over every groove of dense and hardened muscle that the boy owned before  _daring_  to take a sharp curve and graze over the heat of the Lad. That’s when the stronglad broke from the kiss, a rose blush coating the entirety of his face and his hands shooting down to protect his sensitive area away from any touches.

 

“So cute,” Haywood lowly said, sharing another lazy kiss with his boy. “That suit is tight, you think that your Master won’t see that small, pretty cock of yours trying to free itself? Let your Master touch. I’ve been denied long enough.”

 

“I-I --” Ray made a choked sound that resembled a stifled sob before began to palm himself through the suit. He saw the hunger in the ringleader’s blue, poisoned eyes as they stared longingly over those cupped hands. It seemed so  _dirty_ , especially when Haywood stole another sweeping kiss from the Lad’s lips before taking his own hands and cupping them over the boy’s heavy and strong thighs. It all became so surreal for Ray as he could barely even realize the actual fact that he was letting this drunken stupor of a ringleader or a so-called “Master” kiss him and touch him like a man were to do to his wife. Ray felt a jolt of sexual arousal buzzing through his system, making his veins hot and thick and the temptation of impulse finally let Ray let loose his hands, allowing Haywood’s large palms to replace his. The touch was so  _demanding_  and Ray was more than happy to allow his body to rock into a smooth, even rhythm of thrusts against Ryan’s hand; he didn’t say anything at all except for loose fragments of moans and woos every time that the ringleader’s fingers would dip into his suit to graze over his cock.

 

It felt so  _secure_  yet fragile at the same exact time. Even if the words were so convincing and tempting, Ray never thought that he would let Haywood touch him in such a way that he only permitted Gavin and Michael to do, but yet the ringleader got the boy merely with his words - words that required  _effort_  to understand.

 

And Ray was utterly lost in the Master’s kisses; they never lost each other’s lips for long before Ray would needily crawl closer to deepen the movements and get a better taste of the bitter liquor that was on Haywood’s tongue. Inwardly, he knew he had been reduced to a horny, thirsty teenage boy rutting helplessly against his clothes and making such sweet sounds to make any man’s mouth water with hunger. It wasn’t long when Haywood’s lips were strapped all over Ray’s neck, taking playful and eager nips with his teeth just to get a watery, wanting noise that came from the Hispanic.  

 

“ _Quiero más, por favor. S-_ señor Haywood,” the boy was purring when Haywood finally just moved his hands on the inside of his outfit, palming the stronglad’s package with a flat, tender hand before be massaged small circles lightly into the skin with his fingers. “Y-you’ve gotten me all w-wound up,” his voice was awkward against the erroneous words, bucking his hips smally into the ringleader’s hand, cooing a honeying groan.

 

The bed creaked with Ray’s movements and Haywood inwardly was hoping that the boys were asleep so that they wouldn’t have to hear such annoying sounds, however when Ray’s hips began to rut up unevenly, all of his attention was completely enamored on the fit, chiseled boy. There was a thick bead of precum that swelled against Haywood’s fingers when they were wrapped around the boy’s cock. The elder made a happy noise when Ray clung to his touch, whimpering loving moans in fragments of the English language along with his native speech.

 

The Lad’s fingers were clenching with embedding knuckles digging into Ryan’s chest. They held power, the actual strength to rip off a door and yet here he was  _weakening_  with his longing desire of being touched. Haywood found it to be beautiful and did not mind the little tears that Ray had made with his tight grip against his shirt.

 

“My love,” whispered Haywood with a smile. His hand was still rung in a ring that squeezed soppily at Ray’s cock, making the boy give a low mewl to respond. “Mind taking off that suit of yours? I believe your beautiful bodily features will show more positively without any leotard at all.”

 

Ray gave a little noise in response, hands bumbling weakly against the straps of his suit and trying to peel it over his arms to begin to take off the tight outfit. He felt his face lighting up in a fiery embarrassment once he realized not only the eagerness to fulfill Haywood’s request, but his movements were terribly sloppy and silly. He did hear the ringleader give a laugh before he began to help the boy with peeling off his outfit, running his hands on the smooth, built hips of the boy as he also drug the leotard down his body. Ray’s cock bobbed into the air once the nylon garb was off of his body and he gave a sinful cry when the Master’s hand found itself circled so perfectly around his length once more.

 

“I’ve been neglecting your touches, haven’t I?” the Master struggled to say against heavy breath, feeling Ray’s interested fingers dancing against his groin and rubbing so eagerly when he felt the obvious size difference between them. The heat that came from Haywood was  _heavy_  and made Ray grow even more curious of what sweet bulge of candy held back. He honestly felt shameful for just allowing himself to be swept off of his feet like this, but it was  _finally_  the time where Ray felt the Master’s longing love that the other boys always talked about. He was thrusting fervently into Haywood’s hand, treating it as if it were the redheaded firebreather. His eyes were rolled back and lidding shut with his face relaxing against the the fluffed pillows of the bed. “ _God_ , yes my pretty boy. Fuck my hand just like that. My boy’s gotten so greedy and hungry for his Master, hasn’t he? You must be  _starved_."

 

Ray nodded dumbly, giving off a flat grin with heavy breaths escaping his nose as he continued his movements. His hands were braced meekly against the Master’s chest, howling a strident moan before falling into pieces around the Master’s ring. He sputtered out a gasp, pulling away from the over sensitive grip of Haywood’s  _perfect_  fingers.

 

“Aye,” the Lad finally croaked from his constricted throat. “I-I’m so close, M-master.” The word felt foreign enough as it was with the added fact that the boy never even thought about calling Haywood that title  _willingly_. When he pulled away from the elder’s touches, receiving a deep, disapproving groan.

 

“ _Let me_. By God, let me give my littlest darling all of my attention that I’ve held back for so long. Those delicious, lovely thighs - I want them wide open for me at all times,” he sat up close so that he could put a hand on Ray’s shoulder before encouraging the Lad to lay back down so that he could have at him once more. “I bet you taste like a lush, juicy cherry,” he planted a messy, numbing kiss on Ray’s lips before beginning to palm at his drenched cock. “Would you let your Master taste? He’s absolutely dying for it. Just one lick of that sweet, cherry hole is all I’m asking for, sweetheart; will you deny me any longer?”

 

It was  _clear_  he was drunk if it wasn’t obvious before. But it was no matter because of the  _squeak_  that Ray let out, trying to process the words. They were so filthy, they  _had_  to belong to his ringleader despite how much Ray didn’t want to believe it. Haywood was talking to  _him_  in such a way; not Gavin or Michael, but  _him_. His hand began to massage his sac so perfectly that Ray bucked his hips upward, releasing a foreign mewl. His cock was  _aching_  wanting to release already even though Ray was dying for this to not end so soon. He could see the rising tent in Haywood’s boxers; the fabric was so loose to reveal that thick hardness trying to peek up. Ray actually reached down to touch until he heard the ringleader’s throat clear in response.

 

“Not yet, sweet one,” he cooed, laying his lips on the Lad’s cheek. “You can have at my cock all you want after I’m done admiring your body.” His hands were now scouring over each groove of Ray’s muscles once he got comfortable in between the legs of the boy. They skimmed over so smoothly, shuddering with each sudden rise of the boy’s major muscles such as his pecs and quads. “You’re an angel sent for me, aren’t you? There is no way a mortal could have such a perfect body all to himself without anyone to share it with.”

 

Ray didn’t reply, mostly because Haywood spoke too low and he was tired of trying to understand gables of English. He just relaxed, enjoying the warm, tickling touches that roused him from his Master. He spread his legs wide, causing his cock to visibly bob against his abs that lined tight, flat stomach. Haywood moaned proudly, eyeing that dainty cock of Ray’s twitch so eagerly. He grazed his tongue over the head only slightly to get a high, quick wail from the boy, hips trying to instinctually rut upward to the soddened touch of Haywood’s tongue.

 

“ _Señor!_ ” he cried, toes curling with his knees trying to buckle inward, only bumping against Ryan’s head as the elder was still caught in between his legs. “I-I-- _ooh_ , s-sorry,” he managed to say before shakily trying to open himself back up, tip of his cock beginning to drool excitedly at the new, soaked movement that grazed over it. He didn’t pay any attention to the wired smile that Haywood possessed with his hands readily dipping into the fold of Ray’s cleft. His cheeks were so round like orbs - not so much as plush and plump like his lovely swordswallower with jutting, girlish hips like their firebreather, too. He was  _built_  with almost each skeletal muscle that he owned being able to rise and show itself through the strapping, tight skin. There really was no pillow of soft fat on his body, only the rock hard brawn that held underneath.

 

How such power can be dissolved so quickly with a taming Master.

 

“Do you like it when I do that?” the Master sang, beginning to take his tongue and lap at Ray’s cock just like a kit. The boy’s head was beginning to press back against the bed, fingers - index and thumb - wrapping around the base of his cock so that Haywood could lick better at his sensitive head.

 

The boy managed to nod, huffing in small pants as he felt his arousal grow harder, beginning to already swell with readiness of his orgasm. His legs were seperated and folded just in a way that Michael would show him whenever he was demonstrating just how flexible Gavin could be. He was able to mimic it so that the Master could come in closer, popping him into his mouth and sliding down without a hitch. That’s when Ray  _lost it_ , sputtering out desperate pleas and with his hips already beginning to bump upward innately to have a better feel of the Master’s mouth. He was so hot and slick, already begin able to down Ray’s cock as if it were a simple lolly.

 

“Oh! M-Master, oh-oh, please, I’m sorry,” Ray squeezed out from his tight throat. It seemed that making words and speech was becoming more and more difficult as all of his  _world_  was now focused on those loose, drunk lips wrapping so easily around Ray’s cock, taking each embarrassing and needy thrust from the Lad. Haywood's fingers were pressing into Ray’s cleft, threatening to expose that puckered entrance and having at it with all of his touches. Ray was making more messy noises before his movements were already faltering, stumbling to a harsh, slow pace with sopped breaths leaving his lips. He didn’t say a word, but Haywood could  _taste_  the rising bitter and salt on his tongue along with the decent, hardened swell of Ray’s cock that his boy was of the brink.

 

Haywood took a fat, lazy tongue and began to lap over Ray’s hardness, treating it like the minty candycane it was before there was  _finally_ just a faint, spilling squeak that came before the warm gush of cream. Haywood groaned a rough one, swallowing skillfully without even the slightest gag. His Ray tasted of vanilla, the sweet boy.

 

Movements were sensitive and lazy as Ray shuddered, dipping with slick once he pulled out of Haywood’s lips. The muscles under his skin were  _live_  with little twitches and tingles.

 

“Libidinous mutt, fucking his Master’s mouth like the horny boy he is. You wasted no time, did you?” the ringleader was grinning with shimmering drool still passing his lips. “Tiny boy with his cute nub, had so much for his Master to swallow and take.”

 

Ray was a breathless mess of fragmented apologies. He was trying to balance his legs to stop jittering, but they wouldn’t. They were jumping with each touch that Haywood gave him.

 

“Now since I’ve downed your cream, I get to indulge in that sweet taste of your hole, don’t I?” the Master spoke with a wanton voice, already taking his violating hands and spreading the boy open as wide as possible. There was a sharp woo that came as well as a heated, blistering blush that colored his body a much pinker shade. The ringleader groaned low praises as he eyed the lush, dark rim that was closed so tight. He took an interested fingers, circling it lightly in such small, loving circles that made the boy fidget in such a happy and excited way. Ray was  _warm_  on his undercarriage, producing enough heat to make Haywood fall into a weakening kiss against the soft, plush skin of Ray’s thighs and ass. “I want to lick you. Do I have your permission? Just once is all I’m asking for when it comes to having to taste this lovely treat.”

 

Ray made a whine of protest, curling his toes tight when he felt the warm breath of the ringleader brush against the skin of his rear, teasing him of how close the man’s face was to kissing and licking at his sensitive area. His cock was already beginning to harden to life once more, drooling with masses of thick juices. His balls hung low, swelled full with arousal and yearning for cupping touches to massage at them. It wouldn’t be long before he would be spewing thick with cum again, but he didn’t say a word. He could feel the dabbling wetness of the Master’s tongue already beginning to trail over his cleft, warning Ray to prepare for the gushing that would occur because he was already leaking the sweet slick that made the edges of his exposed rim glisten. He clenched when he shuddered, making him seep over the brim.

 

“Pretty, wet boy,” the ringleader hummed before finally swiping his tongue over the coated juices, making not only Ray but  _himself_  moan in such surprise of how amazing it was. Ray’s eyes rolled back, hands instinctively already moving towards his cock, circling it in the ring of his finger while he felt the Master’s hands gripping apart his cheeks, going at him with full licks and kisses that made his member drivel wet and soak his fingers.

 

The ringleader was licking his tongue all over the boy, dabbing in all the right places that made the stronglad nearly swoon each time with the back of his head pressing into the mattress as well as the crying noises that he would make. None of it was any proper language; they were just joyful and blissed out noises that reassured the Master that  _everything_  he was doing was right. Haywood would feel Ray purposely trying to tighten that sweet hole around his tongue whenever the muscle did happen to dive in for that overpowering taste of deep and luscious strawberries. He fervently licked as he could only imagine what that squeeze would feel like around his aching cock. He was pressing himself harshly into the mattress to get that edging pressure against his hard, leaking member for some relief. He could smell the arousal that dripped bitterly from the boy and he was encouraged to keep going to give the Hispanic yet another amazing release.

 

“ _Please!_ ” Ray finally gasped, pushing off of the Master who instantly was trying to press his lips back between those thighs. Anything to have that wondrous taste back on his tongue. Ray was panting, surrendering himself as a lazy mesh with his ass spread apart wide and his lips loose with lax moans; the Master grabbed at him again, separating those cheeks and continuing as if uninterrupted. “ _Oh,_  s-stop,” Ray was gave a heightened cry, kicking his legs in the air with curled toes, especially when the ringleader dove his tongue in  _so_  slick and smooth into the open, wet hole. “I-I’m going to ru-ruin the  _sheets_ ,” he gasped, writhing his hips away from the over sensitive touch of Haywood’s tongue. He was going to spill over again any second if the older didn’t stop.

 

“Why should I? I finally get to drink at my boy; I should have all that I wish,” the Master slurred so messily before running his fingers against the slick that ran in a thick glob out of the boy’s hole. He licked it off as if it were syrup, muddling happily in the boy’s desperate pleas. He could see Ray’s cock straining with want as it stood with pride in the air. There were only little beads of arousal, but they were  _thick_  and smelled of sugary fruits that made the ringleader’s mouth water before he reached up to wrap his lips around it once more.

 

The Lad  _screamed_  feeling his orgasm slap him silly for the second time. He was saying such negative words accompanies with hypocritical praises and encouragements as he buries himself deep into the Master’s mouth, holding himself with a low grouse when he felt the moist walls of Haywood’s throat swallowing him down, once again, so easily.

 

“E-enough --” the boy huffed. “I-I’m weak.”

 

“Funny, Ray” the Master chuckled when he pulled off of Ray with a  _pop_. “You’ve already had your fill?”

 

The stronglad nodded, running his hands through his hair to rub away some of the clear sweat that began to layer his skin from the heat of both of their bodies sharing space like this. His cock was limp and sensitive, so much so that he could barely even more without the twitching of his legs and an involuntary whimper leaving his lips.  


“Tasty Lad,” Haywood purred, finally bringing his knees under him so that he could pull himself off from his stomach. Having the incubating warmth leave his groin for the sudden chilled air made him heave a deep sigh, palming thick at his package. “You’ve gotten me all worked up. Look what you do to your Master,” he laughed. “Maybe  _this_  should serve as punishment for that stunt you pulled tonight.”

 

Ray looked with shy eyes and a bit lip when he saw the tent rising from the ringleader’s underwear. He swears he’s never seen anything like it - anything so  _possessive_  and impressive. He wanted to lick at it or even just see what his hand would look like wrapped around it. The boy was just so disquisitive, just wanting to taste, see, and touch.

 

He dumbly nodded, pressing his knees together to hide his own soft member. So unexceptional compared to his Master’s. It was a cock meant to  _breed_  unlike his.

 

“Are you wanting me?” Haywood winked with tired, blank eyes. “I see those lips trying to make themselves plump for my cock to plunge in.”

 

“S-so big, Master,” Ray could only afford to say. “I-I’m not deserving.”

 

The ringleader raised his eyebrows with a smirk growing on his lips at the choice of words that the Hispanic had spoke. “How humble of the mighty stronglad to say. You don’t think you deserve me, boy?”

 

Ray shook his head, whining soft when he felt the shift of the Master’s weight as he brushed the hard tent against Ray’s shin. He leaned in, making sure the boy could feel all of his heat against his leg.

 

“ _Master_  --”

 

“I want my boy to feel deserving,” the older’s voice shot so low that Ray had snapped his jaw in a split second. The tone - the  _words_ shook the boy until he was gushing those strawberries that made Haywood give such a proud purr. “My lovely Ray is a princess meant to bare children and keep my other boy’s beds warm after the show.” His fingers were peeping through the seams of his boxers, wanting to have them off so badly that he was already sliding them down. Ray could only watch with drooling lips when he saw the tent finally lifting to expose the thick, tall cock beneath that stood already crowning with rousing precum. Ray still had his knees pressed together in the air, still trying to hide his own cock until the invading fingers of Haywood’s pried open those legs as if it were meant to be. “Let me see my shy boy,” he coaxed.

 

“S-sir,” Ray breathed erratically through his nose, feeling himself become dizzy from all the hormones that were raging through his body. After two orgasms, he was feeling sleepy and just as intoxicated as the Master who dabbled his tongue across the boy’s soft cock for a quick lick. Ray’s member was trying to spring back to life from the wet muscle lapping at it, but it was all just so weary right now. Ray was gone, totally mewling words in response when he felt the thick, blunt head of the ringleader’s cock beginning to aim and circle around his exposed hole. It got him all excited that  _this_  was actually happening and that he was letting Haywood do this to him, willingly.

 

“I’m about to dive in, tender Lad. You ready?”

 

Ray’s toes curled when he was bringing his legs back to reveal his entire self and have himself all in the open for anyone to come in and see. The Master could only revel in the thought of how Michael or Gavin or  _both_  could walk and and see him properly stuffing Ray’s hole, them sharing messy kisses and moans together. That was a lovely image, especially after seeing the ambition of Ray gaping himself like this. The boy even took his hands to spread his cheeks apart, leaving the puckered rim only stretched out  _lightly_  but still so tight.

 

“You sure know how to weaken your Master. If you were to spread yourself opened like this for me at any time, it would be all I could to not immediately lick at you like a horny animal.” Haywood spoke with his voice on edge. He pressed the tip of his cock just  _slightly_  against Ray before it popped in so easily, making the stronglad give a yelp, already beginning to clench around it. The ringleader hissed in pleasure before placing his hands on Ray’s hips before beginning to delve in. The poor Hispanic was already making needy noises, feeling the burn of the stretch beginning to ache at his body along with the contradicting tickle of pleasure that coiled in the base of his stomach.

 

At first, Ray’s jaw was tight and clamped shut with the exception of having to release to get that cry of pleasure out before he finally felt the skin of Haywood’s body pressing against his ass fully. That is when the boy mewled over, curling his toes and trying to comprehend the feel of his Master’s cock inside of him completely.  


“I-I -- ‘m so full,” he moaned before trying to bounce back only to groan and stop, afraid that he was going to leak all over the bed. “So full, Master.”

 

“My tender boy so full of my cock, isn’t he?” Haywood crooned before beginning to press deeper to cause a noise to come out of the Lad before be pulled slightly back out. Ray was so warm and slick, causing his movements to be so easy and swift with all of those pink, smooth walls squeezing around him so perfectly. Such a virgin boy - probably has been fucked by Gavin but still so pure and untouched according to the Master’s eyes. He saw the boy’s eyes growing blank with his mouth hung open as if he were preparing to give a wail, but he just remained silent. He was bobbing back and forth, slightly bumping his head against the backboard of the bed.

 

“S-so big -- so  _good_ ,” Ray tried to speak but it was obvious that he wasn’t even trying to speak English anymore after that sentence. The ultimate focus of his was on Haywood’s cock driving into him so thick and heavy, it was nothing like he ever felt before. His own small member was pressed back, weakly weeping with gushing, clear fluids. It smelled sweet to Haywood and it encouraged him to go faster, nails beginning to pick at the grooved, skinned muscles of Ray’s thighs before pounding into him. “ _Master!_ ” he shouted with a huge gasp, sitting his head up and looking at their bodies colliding.

 

He was  _stretched_  around Haywood’s thick cock, his hole swallowing it down and being used. His wetness was slapped around whole member, getting only thicker with each thrust and even dripping down the Master’s legs. Ray groaned at the sight, nerve ending beginning to be shot with the ecstasy beginning to scream through his spine with each powerful thrust that belong to the ringleader. He couldn’t speak anymore - he was  _gone_ , head finally going limp and falling on the mattress with his eyes fluttering shut. There were at times when a random upshot from the Master would rub so perfectly at his sweet spot, but the biggest reaction then would be a strong twitch and a small whimper.

 

“My little boy’s all blissed out, just laying back and having me; isn’t this just so easy, my dear?” the older purred, his nails never stopping their bite on his skin. Ray only groaned in reply, clamping slightly and giving a small grip of his walls and making Haywood  _shudder_  deep before he gritting out, “ _oh_ , squeeze around my cock, lovely boy. I wanna feel my baby squeezing me, wanting me to keep inside him.”

 

Ray obeyed, albeit infirm when his muscles were refusing the work, only being relax and allowing Haywood’s movements to continue. He could feel the thick cock inside him beginning to swell, making that stretched hole even wider. Ray cried out a Spanish curse before beginning to fall back on Haywood’s movements, meeting them halfway as he felt the older’s hands becoming tighter on his hips.

 

“K-keep doing that, my darling, my pretty Ray.  _Oh, God_ , I’m not going to last long.”

 

Ray gave a small purr, feeling the reinforcing strength beginning to allow him to squeeze tighter around his Master. He wanted to feel Haywood cum  _deep_  inside him, plant that seed like he’s been talking about.

 

“I-I want to have a pretty  _chica_ ,” the stronglad smiled.

 

“I-I’ll give you any child you want, cushy boy,” Haywood said, both his words and his movements faltering. He pressed in  _deep_ , giving out a roar of a low moan before he finally was moving slow and  _hard_. Ray was tittering light at the movements; each thrust was making his legs twitch and eyes flicker. They kissed hotly with loose tongues sliding in between each other's lips.

 

And then,  _warmth_  took him over when he felt the seed of his Master shoot heavy and deep into the stronglad. Ray make an appalled noise against Haywood, eyes widening when the heat wouldn’t  _stop_  rolling through him. The only actual word he legitimately spoke was the one, “ _Master --_ ” when Haywood pulled out with a messy noise and let loose of the stronglad.

 

Ray could feel the seed trickling down his cleft as it overfilled his hole. He felt so self conscious of getting the sheets all dirty until he felt the Master’s finger running against his skin and pushing back into his rim. “My pretty boy’s gonna have a lovely girl.”

 

The stronglad gave a concerned smile before having his eyes lid closed and letting himself be drifted off in the heat. There was rough, scattered movements of the Master beginning to lie beside him, planting a loving and apologetic kiss on his lips before the lights were turned off.

 


	6. The Boys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray loves his boys and he worries for them so. Ryan has been much better and kinder to him, although there is just a little more convincing one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry you guys waited so long but here it is! Yes...this has turned into a breeding montage. SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER WITH HAPPY ENDINGS <3 I hope you guys enjoy
> 
> Yes. Lots of breeding kink and there WILL be m-preg. No like, then please go away - but thank you for giving it a read anyway! I appreciate it
> 
> Wanna see more? Click [here](chooboozle.tumblr.com/ask) to tell me all about it~

* * *

 

 

The noises in their ears were soothing to the two performers and they laid together on a bundle of hay. Michael and Gavin both were too lazy and aroused, snuggling each other closely. Silky kisses were being exchanged along with soothing whispers that made them both giggle with happiness.

 

“I can hear them in there, darling,” Gavin chuckled, pulling up a nearby blanket. The hay was somewhat rough and scratchy under them, but the blanket helped with cushioning the pile. Michael nodded and gave Gavin a cloying kiss on his nose before cuddling close. They were both very lusty, their skin lit with electricity that made them enjoy the afterglow of the day. “They seem to be having fun.”

 

“I hope they are,” Michael crooned. “Ray really needs to open up to Ryan and realize that he’s our loving and wonderful ringleader. Ryan would never do anything to hurt us.”

 

“I know, but I swear the way that he’s over us all the time,” Gavin huffed, remembering all of the drunkard’s comments about his sword swallowing. “I remember when he told me that at least I actually found some talent for my throat rather than just on my knees all day like some whore at a brothel.”

 

“I’m sorry he ever said that to you, dear,” the firebreather sighed, snuggling closer to the Brit. “He doesn’t mean it; you know there’s more liquor in his veins than actual blood.”

 

“I just never want him to say anything like that to our sweet Raymond,” Gavin admitted. “You and I, we can handle it, but that boy is still young and innocent. He doesn’t know that Ryan actually loves him, but maybe he will after tonight.”

 

“He sounds like he’s enjoying himself with our master,” Michael confirmed. “He’s our wonderful boy, but he doesn’t know that Ryan has other uses for all of us.” The firebreather felt a pang of guilt in his heart for never properly telling Ray how Ryan really thought of them. All of them were fertile and all of them were capable of baring children. Ray didn’t understand how much he looked so curvy and lush, like a true damsel. And his intense, buttery smell of fertility also flew low under Ray’s nose to not let him even know that he was capable of that. “I think he’ll be just fine.”

 

“I know but I just don’t ever want Ryan to talk down to Ray and think that he’s less than capable of achieving what he wants.”

 

“And he knows that,” Michael shrugged before he gave a yawn. He was beginning to grow even sleepier and he laid his head against the swordswallower’s neck. Gavin smelled of a light mix of salt and sweat with cherries and it made Michael smile with gladness. He cuddled into Gavin’s hold and purred lightly before closing his eyes. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Gav.”

 

The Brit nodded and leaned into Michael’s touch before closing his eyes, himself. “Yes, yes, I know.”

 

 

~

 

 

It was just another week or so before their next big performance. It was a new town that they were at, and moving cities was tough on the Hispanic Lad. He sat in a huff all the time, idly lifting weights while watching out the train door with his legs hanging out. Michael and Gavin were practically worried sick that he would be injured like that, but they soon let it go when Ray finally drew his knees back into the car. The trip to the other state was long, humid, smelly, and tiring. The animals would never shut up at night and occasionally needed their car cleaned along the way. Ray didn’t mind it, especially with how much he liked the animals, but he never liked Michael’s complaining about their constant noises, even if they were annoying.

 

The ringleader and the strongman usually tended to the animals together, Ray holding the bags of feed while Ryan would actually feed them and talk about his past stories when he was a child. Ray learned that Ryan never really wanted to be in the act of entertainment growing up, but when turning eighteen and seeing a circus for the first time in his life, he wanted to be just like the man who would crack the whip and tell every amazing act what to do.

 

Ray sort of got the gist of what the ringleader was saying, his English soon growing better and better, but him always staying silent. He would nod and smile and even lean in for a kiss or two from their master before retreating back into the main car.

 

One night after a pit stop, Ray woke up to the train stopped dead in the tracks and he was completely alone in the car. The doors were opened, revealing bright lights of an adjacent liquor store that was still opened up late. He sleepily saw the other two performers stumbling in with open cases of whiskey and Jack, piling on top of each other in drunken and light kisses. Ryan was the last to wobble in, purring happily from how inebriated they were, a broken bottle sat in his hand. While the other two were snuggled on the opposite end of the car, he drug himself towards the stronglad, tossing the bottle aside.

 

“My pet,” he cooed adoringly while a finger stoked through the careless locks of his dark hair. At the time, Ray sniffled from how chilly he felt and just wanted the doors of the car closed as soon as they took off again. He didn’t mind that Ryan and the boys were drunk (especially with how close Michael and Gavin were to each other), but at the same time he didn’t like it. He shared timid kisses with the ringleader all while Ryan took him in his hold and wrapped around him closely. “Are you eager about the new town?” he asked just above a whisper.

 

Ray frowned slightly, but nodded his head obediently. “Yes,” he answered with a painfully strong accent. He pulled up a small blanket around him and Ryan placed a strong hand on his thigh, stealing yet another kiss.

 

“I’m glad,” he smiled. The hand began to move up fingers beginning to brush over the tight core of Ray’s tummy. The fingers rubbed over the muscles, falling into the dips and chisels, and even gripping possessively. Ray carped out a noise and Ryan gave a low purr before taking another swig of the alcohol. “Want my pet to always be excited.”

 

Ray shifted his eyes over to the other boys at the very opposite end of the car. They only caught his eyes from how Michael was beginning to spew out flames from his mouth with a lighter and the help of the strong liquor that he was drinking. It made Ray smile from how amazing he looked – The Dragon. Ryan chuckled at the sight before kissing Ray’s temple and nosing at his ear. “You like it when Michael does that?”  


“I love it,” Ray muttered, leaning his head against the leader while still having his eyes of Michael. Ray could feel his skin feel tight from the sight of the boys sharing sloppy and fiery kisses between the dying flames on Michael’s lips. It made him _very_ interested and he grinned, legs buckled inwardly in embarrassment. The thought of Michael was rolling over in his mind and all he wanted to do was just primitive grabbing and kisses to him.

“They’re stunning,” Ryan truthfully spoke, but he was quick to turn to catch Ray’s cheek. “But you’re just as amazing and beautiful as them.”

 

That made Ray blush.

 

 

~

 

 

Gavin was wobbling, heart racing as he tightened the harness around his legs and stomach. It was connected to the tight rope just as practice for now. If he were to fall, the wire would snap, but at least it would give him some snag and allow him to fall more gently to the huge trampoline and cushion below.

 

Ray watched with terrified eyes, finger bit down hard enough to draw blood as he saw how Gavin began to walk around the tightrope. Ryan allowed him to wear a harness for practice, but the actual performance was in a few days and so the ringleader was hopeful that Gavin would strip himself from it.

 

The Brit walked out only a couple of feet onto the tightrope before having the courage to unlock the hardness and let it drop to the ground. Ray gulped, holding his fingers tight in between his teeth, eyes turning as big as saucers as Gavin began to run out onto the tightrope as if it were a flat piece of road. Ray could see the grin plastered of Gavin’s face before he jumped up, fingers swinging over gracefully to grab onto the rope and bring his legs up in the air to do a complete handstand and in all honesty, Ray felt faint coming over him.

 

“Master!” he called out with a breaking voice. He was close to crying as he saw Gavin like that, not wanting the Brit to ever be hurt. He grabbed at Ryan’s coattails, his lip wobbling in dismay and not wanting to look up anymore to see the Brit like this – completely unsafe and without any protection to prevent him falling down. Ryan only chuckled and smiled, wrapping an arm around Ray’s neck before kissing his cheek.

 

“Don’t be frightened. Don’t you see how happy and free he is?”

 

Ray didn’t want to look, but he forced himself anyway. He saw Gavin waving down at him, feet perfectly pressed together as if he were a ballerina; his form was flawless and he began to walk the rest of the tightrope normally and without even the slightest hitch. The stronglad sniffled and leaned close against Ryan before managing a small smile. “J-just scared,” he answered.

 

“I understand,” Ryan nodded. “But my charming boys are talented and I have total faith in them. I wouldn’t let anything or do anything to hurt you,” he grinned. Ray pursed his lips, eyes still scanning all over Gavin up in the air.

 

On the side of the wall, Michael was popped up against the wall taking the time to sharpen Gavin’s swords. He took a look at Ray before raising an eyebrow and muttering, “Don’t you think that you should be practicing your routine for the performance?”

 

Ray blushed a darker shade from embarrassment and pulled away from Ryan so that he could go to his weights.

 

 

~~

 

 

Ryan was passed out drunk the next night and so Ray was the only one look up the tent of the cicus to see both Michael and Gavin on the tightrope. They were both giggling and laughing; thankfully, Ray convinced them to not take a couple of swigs of whiskey before going up and so they were just up there aware and tossing away their harnesses before pulling each other in a hug. There was a couple joking laughs of Michael asking Gavin to dance, but when Ray saw them beginning to twirl around on the tight rope in a haphazard hold of each other, he nearly panicked.

 

Ray’s heart skipped as he watched them, bringing his hands up to his mouth and face to prepare to cover them just in case something were to happen. He couldn’t imagine his beloved boys being in danger like that and falling to severe injury or even _worse_.

 

“Cuidado!” Ray whimpered. “Please, be careful!”

 

Gavin and Michael looked down and waved before Michael took the tips of his fingers and kissed them before blowing them down towards Ray. The Hispanic whimpered and caught them, holding them tight as if they would be the last that they would ever get from his delightful Michael. He watched them closely as the both started working down the latter to get down from the tightrope and as soon as they did, Ray ran to them with a bundle of hugs.

 

 

~

 

 

Ryan actually allowed the boys to share one room together and that made Ray more than happy. He patted the bed lazily, feeling his lidded and tired eyes droop sleepily and make his head a little dizzy. They all just came back from a steamy and refreshing shower that was available at the side of the tent and the building. They were all lucky to be in an area that was much fancier and better than their last one. Instead of outhouses, there was actual plumbing, and the showers were easy to go to. They were tangled in a flurry of towels around each other like loose robes from the ancient days; they were also in a mesh of kisses and touches, Gavin and Michael planting loving pecks all over Ray’s face and sneaking their fingers up his tunic-like towel to flick and rub at his nipples.

 

Now, the other two were piling in the room with mischievous and drunken giggles. Michael had a hidden bottle of alcohol behind the fold of his wrist and it brought a little pain to Ray’s heart to see it. He didn’t say anything and he gave a small grin whenever Michael landed on top of the mattress right beside him, dropping the bottles to the ground with heavy clunks. Warm, thin arms folded around Ray’s neck and he was pulled into a disheveled and raging kiss already full of tongue and teeth. Ray bleated in surprise, but accepted the kiss with sleepy and closed eyes, moving his lips flawlessly against Michael. Gavin came in behind him, tossing a long and beautiful leg over his thigh to lock him into place between his hips.

 

It made Ray grow passionate, biting against Michael’s lush and bottom lip. He tasted the bitter sting of alcohol against his tongue and smelled it all over his boy’s breaths. Ray whimpered from it, screwing his eyes shut as their movements got more intimate, peeling off his towel entirely from his body. Ray pulled away from Michael and gave a slight wail before Gavin immediately told him to hush and behave himself.

 

“Don’t be startled, sugar,” Gavin grunted when he backed Ray’s ass against his hardness. He also had the towel stripped from his front and so Ray was able to feel the full skin on skin contact from Gavin’s hardening length. He was sandwiched in between both the swordswallower and the firebreather as Michael pulled himself even close to the stronglad, locking his own knee in between Ray’s legs.

 

“You’ve been such a good boy for us, haven’t you?” Michael asked with a slur. “Always looking out for us, making sure we aren’t hurting ourselves. Poor Ryan is all tuckered out and doesn’t have the energy to look out for us, but you do.” Michael was purring, littering muddled kisses on Ray’s cheeks in between his words. Ray smiled at the charms that Michael was giving him and he held him close, trying to give a series of his own kisses back to him, but the firebreather wouldn’t let him. His ginger hands were all over his arm and belly, rubbing against the bulk and grain of muscle and sliding over every dip chisel of his abs. “Our striking boy.”

 

“You spoil both of us,” Gavin confirmed, tickling his fingers over the raised muscles of Ray’s frame and even over the firm of his ass. In no way was he comfy or plush like they were, but all of them absolutely cherished it anyway. The way Ray was built and how he could protect them all by just wrapping his thick arms around made Gavin and Michael melt into puddles. Ray’s muscles flinched from the graze of the thin fingers until they relaxed when Gavin massaged them mildly. “Open up, dear,” he pleaded, licking his lips as he tried to move the fingers in between the dark and heated cleft of Ray. The Hispanic made the tenderest sound that Gavin ever heard in his life and relaxed to allow the swordswallower to feel all over.

 

Michael continued to kiss at Ray until he pulled away to sit up. His eyes were still locked and loaded, never leaving Ray’s orbs until they were ripped away when he turned around. Michael laid back down, his back face towards Ray and pressed himself close against the Hispanic. “Come on, love,” he coaxed. At first, the stronglad was confused until he felt that wiggle of Michael’s ass against his lap and he almost cried out in thrill, grabbing onto it immediately. His breath quivered when he felt the full seat of Michael’s ass over his lap, rubbing teasingly against his cock.

  
He wanted to slide in right then and there, not holding back at all, but there was a hitch in Gavin’s breath that hold him to wait.

 

“But,” he heaved, fingers locking their hold into Michael’s curly locks. “Are we really? What about our ringleader, dear? He’d be jealous.”

 

“We’ll wake early tomorrow and put on a show for him,” Michael rumbled with glee, especially when Ray’s cock rutted against the cleft of his ass perfectly. He could feel the teasing sensation of his tip trying to enter, but it slid on past. “Grab the lube, Gav,” he begged.

 

“Hungry thing,” Gavin grinned and grabbed the bottle that was beside the bed, discarded carelessly when Ryan had a little round with him earlier. “ ‘ere, dove,” he told Ray. The Hispanic wasn’t paying much attention, but when the swordswallower tossed the bottle against his shoulder, he turned to grab at it and immediately squeeze a few big drops on the bed of his fingers.

 

“I-I want –”

 

“I do too, Ray,” Michael purred happily, taking his fingers to pull apart plush cheeks. Ray slotted in almost perfectly, rutting like a horny pup with how much he was moving. Ray focused on trying to slather the lube against Michael’s skin, able to slide it right over the puckered, slick rim. Michael flinched against his touch and there was a breathless yelp that the firebreather made. “Please,” he begged, just ready to have everything that the Hispanic wanted to give him.

 

Without another second of hesitation, Ray slathered the last little bit of lube that he had left on his hand over his cock and grabbed onto Michael’s waist. It was an awkward angle, but they both managed as Ray poked the blunt tip of his cock inside and filled Michael instantly with needy bucks of his hips. “Oh!” Ray wheezed. The way his cock was surrounded and squeezed so perfectly around his cock. He starts to claw at the squishy, pale skin of the firebreather, but feels Gavin yank on his hair just a little bit.

 

“Shush, shush!” Gavin hisses, biting his bottom lip when he slides his cock into Ray’s cleft once again. The Hispanic is so firm with hard and bulky muscles, but his skin is no less than a flawless patch of sleek velvet. The Brit stole the bottle of lube, quickly coating his length in the thin liquid before tossing it away. He yowled in contentment when he slide in between without a hitch, making his cock twitch hungrily. He didn’t want to enter Ray in fear that they would be caught, and knowing the other two, they’re so roused that they wouldn’t last long anyway. Gavin kept his grunts very low to just an exhale of breath.

 

Michael was so vocal that Ray was nearly losing his mind. His moans were mellow and pure, and sounded so wanton and thirsty. Ray gave such small thrusts, but the noises that the firebreather was howling out encouraged him that he was doing everything right. His mind was clouded and so was his vision as his eyes rolled back before fluttering closed. “Ray!” Michael called out happily, a smile plastered over his face, elated that he was being used like this.

 

“Michael, p-please be quiet,” Gavin struggled to say, still rutting into Ray.

 

Michael didn’t listen; he only laughed. His head swimming and his giggled sounded inebriated. Gavin should have known that he had too much to drink when he offered him an extra hit of bourbon before sliding into bed with Ray.

 

“R-Ray, please make me have a fat, healthy pup,” the firebreather sounded as if he were deprived of air, tossing his head back so much that it nearly bumped into Ray.

 

That kind of talk made both Gavin and Ray shudder audibly. “Oh, Micoo,” Gavin pursed his lips at the thought of his beloved boy like that. He never thought that Michael would actually beg Ray to be the one to fill him up, but it was an image that made Gavin turn into a puddle. He latched on Ray harder, movements fumbling before whispering in the boy’s ear, “H-he’s drunk; please be careful.”

 

The stronglad paid no regard to Gavin’s words and instead gave out a drawn out groan in reply. He wanted it so badly, to be able to kiss the tight, round belly that Michael would have and to be able to hold those little babies that would be _their’s_ – it drove him mad.

 

“Faster; I fucking want it,” Michael had an edgy growl in his tone that made Ray purr. Ray obeyed with a change of pace, squeezing fistfuls of velvety flesh in his palms. He loved the way that Michael felt against him and how rounded and fluid his skin was. Both of them, Michael and Gavin, had such amazing skin as smooth as silk and as comforting like the scent of lavender.

 

“M-Michael,” Ray panted passed his strong accent. He was getting close and in a feverish daze, he reached around Michael to grab around his hand that was fumbling on his shiny, pink cock. It was sticky to the touch and it made Ray purr as he stroked it, matching the same pace that he was going at.

 

Gavin was at a loss for words. He no longer tried to keep the other two quiet because of how enticing the scene actually was before him. Everything around him had dumb down to only right then and there, looking at those two with lusty and wanting eyes. He continued to move against Ray, feeling the edge cutting close until he closed his eyes and lost himself in it. It was pure heaven, all of them together and using each other like this.

 

“Ray, God, I want it,” Michael huffed again, tossing his head back again. A flurry of dampened and aromatic curls scattered in the Hispanic’s face and Ray inhaled deeply. It was once again that burst of lavender that made him sing lovely moans. “I’d have a beautiful little boy or girl from you and they’d have your caramel coated eyes and your strapping muscles or your beauty.”

 

“Michael, you know what our Master said –” Gavin tried to remind but Michael cut him off with wails of pleasure. “T-They’ll be _his_.”

 

 

~

 

 

The ringleader groaned, recovering from yet another drunken stupor. His head still quaked and spun in loopiness as he sat up from the bed. He wondered what time it was, and he also wondered how long he had been out for. “Boys?” he called out before he yawned, his head pinging in a dull pain.

 

There was no answer, however Ryan _did_ hear something that caught his attention. His eyes went wide as he recognized the all too familiar sounds of blissed out and content squeals and mewls that came from his firebreather. At first, Ryan smiled, looking beside him to expect Michael laying there, toying with himself, but when he looked to the side it was completely empty. “Michael?” he asked before trying to pat around his bed. None of the boys were in here, especially the source of the noises.

 

” _Ray!_ ” they called out and Ryan puffed out air in alarm, his eyes growing wide. He jumped up from his bed in nothing but a pair of boxers and a white tee shirt before slowly stumbling out of the room.

 

“They’re toying with each other again,” he growled in realization. It wasn’t anger, not at all; he has tried to reduce any means of angered emotions ever since that night that he and Ray finally grew closer together. Now, it was just pure jealousy. He didn’t want the boys to mess with one another, accidentally knock each other up with whoever’s child that wouldn’t be his.

 

There was talk of breeding and that’s when the ringleader growled, his eyes lidding from a frenzied haze as he felt a redden color rise in his face. “Why are they talking like this to each other without me being there? Having all of the fun without their master to guide them,” his muttered, tongue fumbling in his mouth.

 

He made sure that they would be reminded of who he really is to them.

 

 

~

 

 

“H-harder! God, please,” Michael yelled, fingers tearing through the sheets like paper as Ray still pumped his hand on his cock. The bed was shaking underneath their movements and even Gavin was failing at trying to keep his noises as low as he could. Supple, loving kisses were pecking all over the back of Ray’s head, neck, and ears, telling him how amazing he was and how beautiful he moved against the both of them.

 

“You’re like the perfect piece to complete our puzzle.”

 

Ray nodded speechlessly, just wanting to continue until he reached his end. Toes were beginning to curl from the spikes of over-sensitivities along with the light gush of precum that he could felt being milked out by Michael who clenched down desperately. “I’m-‘m close, Ray,” the firebreather babbled with a shortness of breath. In between Ray’s fingers, he could feel Michael leaking all over him, dribbling down until they stained the worn sheets on the bed. “Keep going, I want it – I’m so close, I’m nearly there.”

 

And suddenly like a flash, Ray felt sharp nails digging into his sides. Ray yipped, eyes shooting open from the sudden pain and he realized that it was Gavin gripping onto him like a vice. He looked up in shock to see Ryan standing there, teeth grit and his hand plastered on the door when he yanked it opened.

 

“Boys,” he raised a brow. “Having fun are we?”

 

Instantly, Ray and Gavin were hit with shame and it was Michael who slid off away from the Hispanic. “No!” Ray yelped, trying to hide himself from the chilled air that surrounded him whenever he slipped away from the firebreather’s hot clutch. Ray tries to hide under some loose sheets, but they were bundled in a way that barely provided any cover to hide his embarrassment. Gavin just held onto Ray protectively, now curling arms around the Hispanic tightly. His legs locked around Ray’s ankles, pulling him even closer.

 

“Master?” Michael yipped, sitting up from the bed. He shifted closer, a dusky coo coming from him along with a hopeful smile. “Master, we –”

 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Ryan interrupted, brows furrowing together. He walked towards the end of the bed with a slow, wide gate taking Michael’s shoulder in hand. The firebreather obeyed, following Ryan to the end of the bed. There was a brief, low murmur of the ringleader commanding Michael to get on his hands and knees right in front of Ray and Gavin for them to see; at first, the firebreather pursed his lips and blushed, but honored the command and did so. “Ass in the air. I want you to show off to your pretty boys. It isn’t like you weren’t just practically flaunting your hole for them”

 

Michael’s knees buckled in from the demand and he did so, chest pressing against the mattress and ass being raised, knees apart. He was used to this kind of position and he usually _adored_ being like this, but he could feel the flames of both excitement and disgrace singe his chest. He was still so achingly hard, hole spread and dripping, while his nips were buds on his chest. He made a small squeal when a powerful hand popped downward to smack one lush, rounded cheek only to leave a red, handprint behind. Gavin gritted his teeth, pulling Ray until they, too, were sitting up on the mattress. The swordswallower had protective and defensive eyes all over Ryan, making sure that he wasn’t going to touch Ray in any way like that.

 

“See what you made me do?” the ringleader purred, biting back his bottom lip. His fingers danced over the reddened area, rubbing lightly. “What’s all this talk about breeding, and being bred with his babies?” Ryan took a gentle finger to point at Ray. The stronglad blushed and buried his face into the crook of his arm, still keeping an eye on his Michael underneath his arm.

 

The firebreather was completely exposed; his plump cheeks were spread perfectly enough to show a well-used, wet, and clenching pink hole. It looked as if it _ached_ for something to fill it again and Ray whimpered, wanting to be the one to do it so badly.

 

“Just…got excited, ‘s all, Master,” Michael answered solemnly. “It wasn’t Ray’s idea; we got a bit too much to drink.”

 

Ryan hummed in amusement, lidded eyes trailing over the back of Michael before his fingers followed through and poked themselves into the firebreather’s rim. Michael arched his back, giving a croon, trying so badly to not fall into the natural rhythm of pleasing the ringleader and just going ahead and fucking himself on his fingers. “I think it’s cute how you believe your ripe flower could ever blossom a baby from his gentle, delicate cocklet.”

 

“I-I know, Master,” Michael trembled. “We all know.”

 

“Then why?” Ryan asked lowly, now darting his eyes slowly upward to look at the other two. He smirked evilly when he say Gavin’s tigeress eyes glaring him down as he held Ray against his chest, curling him up to protect him. “You’re adorable, Gavin. You’re a truly a fine mother trying to pull your boy in like that.” A proud image rolled through the drunkard’s mind at the thought of not only his Gavin, but _all_ of his boys being proud mothers and trying to protect their babies from harm.

 

“You’re not gonna treat Ray like this; he doesn’t deserve it. We were just having a little fun is all and you know we would never go against you,” the Brit answered.

 

Ryan felt his blood run thick through his system with the Brit said that. It touched him, but he still didn’t take his mind off of playing with the firebreather to prove a point. He teased at Michael’s hole by curling his fingers shallowly, growling faintly at how soft and smooth it really was, already opened up and ready by the Hispanic. “You just prepped him for me is all.”

 

Ray bit his lip, remaining his eyes on Michael’s exposed body. He couldn’t look away as the firebreather arched and whined longingly with his cock twitching visibly between his legs. The sounds burned into Ray’s ears and he was quivering in the Brit’s tight hole as he saw the ringleader add another digit. “No hurt…please,” Ray begged.

 

“Hurt my sugary boys?” Ryan would have sounded offended if it weren’t for that roused growl that bubbled in his chest. “Never. Even if you do sometimes bring a bitter taste whenever you oppose me,” he sounded sincere as he dove the fingers into Michael, spreading him out and making him wince and sob longingly. Ray could feel pads of Gavin’s fingers dipping into his skin when Michael shouted out a sinful “ _oh, God!”_ and Ryan laughed, still staring at the two. “See, Michael? Look how they watch you in complete awe, mesmerized of how exposed you are for them. They want to be like that themselves, don’t they? And to think they thought they could ever breed you properly.”

 

Ray cursed quietly, hands reaching back to tug at Gavin’s cock. Just like he thought, it was still so hard and even dripping from the sight of Michael being handled like this. Gavin did the same to him to confirm the truth that he was also just as shamefully hard as he was, giving his cock a couple of decent strokes so that it wouldn’t be abandoned.

 

“Always wrapping us around your little finger,” Gavin cooed with a light bit of annoyance. His voice was low with a shaky breath as he saw Michael gripping onto the sheets. “At least stop teasing him and give some relief on his weeping cock.”

 

Ryan took a look at Michael’s state and grinned before snapping his fingers. Instinctually, all of them froze, waiting for an order and there was a nasty groan that came from Gavin above him. He hated at how badly the ringleader did control them just like a puppet master with his collection, but at the same time it made him jittery. “Then why don’t you come here and teach your master how to properly treat his boys?” Ryan asked with a low rumble. He took his fingers out of the older Lad’s hole and spanned his hand in between the cheeks to give off a better view of it being presented out to them all. The rim was shivering from the cool air and Michael keened, choking quietly of how he wanted the fingers back in.

 

Gavin felt his heart flutter, still holding onto Ray tightly and not wanting to let go. He didn’t say a word at first, but just tilted the boy’s head back before landing a messy kiss on his cheek. “I don’t want you to treat us badly thinking you can get away with it,” he stated clearly, not wanting to be defiant. Every word felt like a hammer striking a nail on his coffin.

 

“Let go of the boy, he can have without his Gavin holding him for a brief second or so,” Ryan replied, now patting the base of Michael’s back like a proud horse. “Now come on, he’s waiting. You surely know what to do, don’t you, my miss know-it-all. Lick him open.”

 

With a gulp, Gavin obeyed with shaky movements, regretfully letting go of Ray and crawling over to where Michael was. He was on his hands and knees, tongue curling in his mouth to resist it poking out for an immediate lick. He didn’t want to look at Ray’s face seeing him like this and instead he focused on the array that was Michael’s lush hole. “Gavin,” he heard the firebreather blow out in relief.

 

“Hey, boi,” Gavin replied with a trembling voice.

 

Another pat on Michael’s ass and Ryan was humming contently. “See, this is _mine_ to take and breed as I want,” he said. “But, you’d know I’d always give you permission to play and lick at his clutch.”

 

“Y-yes, master,” Gavin gritted his teeth before giving in, hands landing themselves harshly on the comfy cheeks of Michael and giving a strong, flat lick of his tongue. Aside from the artificial fruity taste that belong to the lube they used, he savored every genuine and _amazing_ taste that the firebreather possessed. It was so rich and savory, like a piping hot cheesecake that just came out of the oven. Gavin adored it so and he gave a hungry groan as he licked, diving his tongue into the rim and licking all around the walls. Michael squeezed tight around his tongue while he pressed his lips comfortably around the opening.

 

“F-fuck!” Michael whimpered, shaking violently as the sworeswallower lick him open. “Fuck, Gavin – I…can’t,” he choked when he reached his end quickly, spilling over without even a hand to help and landing long jets of cum to land on the bed. Even Ryan was in awe, groaning proudly as he palmed at his cock when he watched it happened. Michael was writing, bouncing back against Gavin’s tongue along with trying to find some friction between his legs to ride out the remainder, but it wasn’t given to him and so all he could do was cry in pleasure and keen. His cock sputtered pathetically, twitching in the air for some attention that wouldn’t be given just for show.

 

Ray’s eyes were as wide as dazzling stars, jaw relaxed and hanging open. His hand was working furiously on his cock, no longer shamed to show how turned on he was. Michael’s wails of “ _Master”_ and “ _Please, I need to be full_ ,” were too much for him to not react to.

 

Gavin didn’t stop. He remained captive there, lapping at the lively and fluttery rim to give Michael some more relief until Ryan barked out an order for him to shoo away. “He’s had enough,” he tittered with proud envy. At first, Gavin didn’t give, growling soft when Ryan tried to push him away, but finally with a small yank on his scalp, Gavin stopped and gave. He turned away in defeat, licking wet lips that were layered with piquant slick. The ringleader finally pulled down the hem of his underwear to expose a thick tip and he rubbed at it before smacking the boy’s ass once again. “You won’t be able to breed on Gavin’s clever tongue, my lovely Lad, no matter how good it may make you feel.”

 

Ray shuddered from that, grabbing onto Gavin and kissing him deeply, no longer being able to wait to try and imagine what Michael must taste like. Tongues swept all around, sliding in between lips and teeth in very familiar areas, desperate to share. They pressed and clung to each other, cocks rutting against one another just for some touch and feel for them.

 

 _This is heaven…_ Ray couldn’t help but think, sighing deeply when Gavin tweaked his fingers around his nipples and played with them. It truly felt like _he_ was drunk from all of it with how overwhelming it was; soon, he saw Ryan back at Michael, shoving more fingers in to make the older Lad yelp and melt into a puddle of sounds as the ringleader took control.

 

“Are _these_ a good substitute for you as well? You little slut, just wanting to be taken by anything that makes your hole feel full and stretched, aren’t you?”

 

The poor thing seemed conflicted of his answer, seeming to start to scream out a high “ _yes!_ ” but immediately stopped himself to shake his head and whimper. “N-no, I’m not. I want your cock, master.”

 

“What was that?” Ryan simpered, giving another hefty smack on Michael’s cheeks to make them as red as fire. The boy under him was squirming around in his mess, sobbing out begging blubbers and whines.

 

“I’m not playing games,” the firebreather gnarled, tossing his head to look at Ryan from the side. “Come on, _master_ , I want to be bred.”

 

Ryan gave an egotistical snicker as he finally slithered clumsily onto the bed, Gavin and Ray stopped too look and see chiseled, strong thighs straddling Michael’s lower back, the ringleader bending right over the Lad to pull at his hair lightly. It wasn’t anything hurtful, in fact Michael screeched for more, gasping as his head was pulled back to expose his throat. “Y-yes, please,” was all he could afford when the ringleader shucked down the remainder of his boxers. The fabric stretched and popped, but he didn’t care – his cock was finally free, so achingly hard and pressing against the rumbled shirt that covered his stomach.

 

Gavin and Ray stopped to focus on the scene, fingers carefully laying over each other’s cocks to give some tug and both of them held their breaths. The ringleader was full over Michael, completely exposed to show a swollen, heavy sac just under his thick cock. Ryan grinned, teasingly rutting his cock in between the spread cheeks of the firebreather. “So excited for me, I can practically feel you clench already…”

 

It was a split second in full view when Ryan finally pressed inside, making Michael give out such a noise that would be an embarrassment for him to realize how high and needy it sounded, but none of them cared. Ray gripped onto Gavin as they saw Ryan push all the way inside, seating Michael fully stretched snugly on his cock. “Damn,” Gavin hissed, giving little kisses to the stronglad once again.

 

The Hispanic was breathless from Ryan groaning out a low, slow, “Oh, fuck yes,” before moving inside the Lad with serene, depthless thrusts. “So tight, squeezing around me like you don’t ever want me to leave.”

 

“I don’t,” Michael confirmed, finally grabbing a hold of his cocklet again. It didn’t even seem close to being remotely spent, straining firm in his hands as he jerked it. “Not unless I have that cream of yours.”

 

“Sassy thing,” the ringleader finally pulled out just until the curves of his tip were beginning to peek out before he slammed back in, the movements now not as calm and much rougher. Michael jolted, purring happily and begging for more.

 

“Don’t be gentle!”

 

The two couldn’t see Michael’s face really, but Ray imagined that it would be the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen – twisted in the best kind of grimace, taking all of Ryan and being so overpowered. Little tips of blunt nails tried to snag over the pale and creamy skin of the firebreather, the pace going stronger and faster.

 

“Doesn’t he look lush?” Gavin asked, enticing Ray into yet another smooch. “Didn’t you enjoy being like that?”

 

Ray nodded wordlessly, Gavin now trailing kisses to his neck. There was a second or two with all of them being completely speechless, only affording adoring and blissed out coos and grunts and Ray shuddered as Gavin took a hold of his cock. “G-Gavin,” he breathed out, still keeping an eye on the ringleader and Michael, biting his lip hard. He imagined himself just like that, being able to take such warm seed and being fill to the brim and never having to be empty again. “W-want – _oh!_ ” he’s thighs quivered when Gavin’s head sped up, trying to milk his orgasm out of him.

 

“We know what you want,” Gavin smiled. He leaned in close to nibble lightly at Ray’s ear before he whispered, “You just want to love and be loved on, don’t you?”

 

Ray squealed and nodded a frantic yes before his hips began to spasm. He panted, trying to jut his cock up into the ring of Gavin’s hand as he reached his peak. His body was weak, pulsating with hot pins of euphoria as he felt Gavin continued to move his hand. The Brit groaned, rutting his cock up against Ray’s skin, not even caring where he touched as long as the feeling was _there_. He held onto Ray tight, pulling him into an unorganized hug and bumping his cock in between Ray’s twitchy and wet legs. “I want to be too, I’m just,” his breath faltered when he found a good stride against Ray’s groin, head tossing back. “J-just scared he’ll hurt you…”

 

“He won’t,” Ray smiled, looking back on the other two. Michael was no longer moaning, but hummed happily and comfortably as Ryan continued. The ringleader bottomed out each time, presenting a lovely view of Michael’s used and spread rim each time. Ray cursed again, tipping his back for Gavin to bite down on his neck. A puff of breath across his skin made him shudder before he felt the liquid heat beginning to splash over his legs. The grip of the teeth tightened down on Ray’s neck and he closed his eyes, blushing madly. His heart throbbed in the best way, loving how he was marked by his lovers and how they all belonged to their ringleader – their _master_. At first, he didn’t enjoy the idea of them being all controlled by a clumsy, heavy hand, but now it was all he could think about.

 

To be filled with children; his very own baby boy or girl that he could hold in his arms and to say that it was _his_ and his master’s. They would be gorgeous, sitting snug and fit in his arms – a bundle of joy to call their own and he wanted it so badly.

 

Gavin pushed him down and reality snapped back to him, lips locking with the Brit’s and thirstily sipping on lush skin. There was high woos that came from the oldest Lad and powerful groans that came from Ryan who was certainly reaching his end, pulling back on Michael’s hair once again as his movements slowed and grew more rough to plant his seed deep inside the firebreather.

 

And suddenly, Ray knew this was paradise.

 


End file.
